26 - One Day in Ephesus

Paul’s doctrine of Christ, formed by his visions and conception of his mission, crystallized in its strange incomprehensibility to traditional Jews, so that it evoked ever-greater dissension. It began as a gospel of hope; it was transformed into a cause of hostility. For what Paul had to say was alien to the very nature and spirit of the Jews, and his words sounded to them like a trumpet call to false worship. Within a few months Paul’s teachings provoked a bitterness of spirit that drove many Jews into a fury against the faith of Christ.

The pattern in Ephesus was similar to what had happened in other cities. Many Jews refused to listen to what Paul had to say, so he started a new congregation, which widened the breach between his followers and the other Jews. He gained a large enough following in Ephesus to rent a schoolhouse, with the right to assemble there at certain hours of the day, when the children’s classes were not in session.

Paul could face this division with the Jews because of his extreme faith. He became “the fool of Christ,” and in the folly of his love, devotion, and surrender, he made a continuous sacrifice of his life. Each day before dawn, while the rest of the world was still asleep, he rose to pray and gather strength. When dawn came he washed his hands, as every pious Jew did, said the morning Shema, ate his frugal breakfast of a small piece of bread and a handful of olives, which he washed down with a cup of water that barely tasted of wine or honey, and went to his place in the workshop of Aquila and Priscilla. And while his feet worked the treadles and the shuttle flew back and forth, his mind was given to the problems of his infant congregations.

On this particular day he was thinking about the flock in Corinth. Sosthenes had arrived from there recently and pretty much confirmed the mournful tidings of Apollos.

He told of a spirit of hatred and envy among the Christians, a spirit of rivalry and hostility. One would say, “I belong to Paul.” And the other would cry, “I belong to Apollos.” Who were Paul and Apollos, Paul asked himself with a groan. “I planted and Apollos watered, but it’s God who sent up the shoot.”

So as he worked at the loom in anguish, he began composing the phrases that would be woven into his letter to the Corinthians.

“Don’t you know that your bodies are the temples of the Holy Spirit, which is within you and which you have from God? You have been bought with a price. Therefore glorify God in your bodies and in your spirit, which are of God.”

So, laboring mechanically, and sharpening the arrows of his phrases, Paul sat until midday when all Ephesians suspend work. When the sun reaches its highest point in the sky, and pours down a torrent of light and heat, each one finds a shelter, or a spot of shadow. Windows are covered with cloth, awnings are laid on frameworks. Some lie in the shelter of the temple columns or the walls of houses. The merchant, the slave, the laborer, man and woman, all rest, and Ephesus dozes in the fiery sunlight.

Only the apostle Paul and his followers are awake and at work. They are gathered in the synagogue of Tyrannus. For Paul takes no midday pause. He eats a frugal midday meal, a salad, a few olives, a spoonful of honey, and in the company of his most intimate followers he goes to the synagogue.

There, in the cool and shadowed interior, his congregation, mostly Jews who haven’t been frightened away by his strange doctrine, sits on the little stone benches. Some have already accepted baptism. There are Ephesians among the listeners, but there are also visitors from nearby towns, merchants most of them, who’ve heard the strange reports of a wonderful message and have come to hear for themselves. They come from Colossae, Laodicea, and Hieropolis, and what they hear they will take with them to their towns along with their merchandise. As they sell the latter they will distribute the former, founding new congregations of believers in the process.

Meanwhile they sit and listen, Arichus of Colossae and Nimphos of Laodicea, among others. They are Jewish faces rapt with attention as Paul talks about the end of days when the trumpet will sound, and the dead will rise from their graves. Christ will come suddenly with the clouds of heaven, like a thief in the night, as Daniel prophesied.

This man, who can say such bitter things against his own flesh and blood, can also bring forth such tenderness and consolation for the suffering of his people. His listeners are frightened and overjoyed at the same time. Their beards bristle with astonishment, and the hairs on their heads stand up. Their hearts melt with terror and hope.

“Ah, what wonderful times we live in! Why are we silent? Come, let us spread the gospel of Christ throughout the world!”

There are Gentiles sitting next to these Jews, men and women with faces of chiseled granite. There is no outward trace of what they are feeling inwardly. Outwardly they seem hard, impenetrable, inaccessible. But in their hearts, there is a mighty struggle. Their pulses beat and their brains are in turmoil. Paul’s words have lodged themselves in their hearts, breaking open the stone of their one-time life. A spring of joy is opening, and the waters of deliverance well up. In their hearts they think, “God has had compassion on the Gentiles. Before we even knew of him, Christ died for our sins, in order to redeem us. Now we enter into a new covenant and become co-heirs of the promise of God with the Jews.”

Only the faces of the women, lined with care and motherly sorrows, show a glimmer of a response. Their eyes drink in the gospel, their lips tremble.

“All are equal in the faith!” cries the apostle.

There are children there as well, even infants and nursing babies. For they’ve heard that the touch of the apostle’s hands, the breath of his mouth, the flutter of his clothes, can bring healing. After he has finished, the women will crowd around him and ask for his blessing on them and theirs. They will touch his sandals, and they will be healed of sickness as well as sin.

As part of his end of days sermon, Paul pours forth his wrath against the cult of the magicians, soothsayers, and idolatrous healers. His fiery words condemn them forever to the deepest pit of hell. He doesn’t speak openly against the goddess Artemis herself. His assault is launched against the whole world of idolatry, against the unclean life of paganism, and against the philosophers and wise men of the Gentiles.

“Because they think they are wise, they have become fools. They’ve exchanged the glory of the incorruptible God for a corruptible image, a bird, a beast, a crawling thing. Therefore God has delivered them to the impurity of their passions, so that they debase their bodies, since they have taken it on themselves to worship the creature in the place of the Creator Who is blessed for ever – Amen!”

“God has delivered them to a treacherous understanding. They are filled with all kinds of unrighteousness and evil. They are filled with envy, murder, quarrels, deceit and evil thoughts. They are chatterers, slanderers, enemies of God.

“But God has shown his love for us, in that while we were sinners, Christ died for us.”

Every word speeds to the heart of his listeners like an arrow. They see the ocean of sin about them, in which they’d been sunk. They understand the perversity of the desires they’ve indulged in. They know that their lives have been abandoned of God until this moment. Now the light of hope shines above them. Help is let down for them by the hand of God. The saving rope is the death of Christ, who has suffered for them. And there is not a single one among the listeners, however steeped in the old ways of sin, however reluctant to give an outward sign, who doesn’t soften with longing and hope.

* * * * *

In Ephesus Paul started using a new method for winning souls to Christ– personal contact. Like a beggar he went from house to house. When he heard of anyone inclined to listen, Paul visited him at home, to speak with him alone, face to face.

Sometimes he was led to a dying man, who had expressed the desire to speak with the apostle before his eyes were closed, so that he might hear of the hope beyond the grave in the last moment. So Paul would sit with the dying man, hold his hand and comfort him, saying, “In the faith of Christ death becomes nothing. Death is just the door into the eternal life of Christ. The believer in Christ lives, even in death.”

Sometimes Paul was asked to visit a rich man who wished to enter the faith together with his entire household. The sick, the healthy, the poor and the rich, Paul visited them all, refusing no request, and considering no one too little or unimportant for his ministry. He comforted with words, and he healed with the touch of his hand.


At the end of the day, when a cool wind blows across the city, Paul returns to the humble home of Aquila and Priscilla. There is no more strength in his body. His face is gray, his feet are like stones, and his clothes are tattered and covered with dust. His sandals are falling apart, and his undergarment clings to his flesh.

Although the home remains humble, Aquila having lost his prosperity here in Ephesus, the apostle lacks for nothing. Somehow Aquila and Priscilla find a cruse of oil for Paul. Titus washes his teacher, anoints him and draws a new garment over his body. Refreshed and rested, the apostle repeats the evening Shema and sits down with the household to a frugal supper.

But the day’s work is far from done. There are still delegations to be received. They come to him from the congregations he founded with many questions. Gaius and Aristarchus are here, having recently arrived from Macedonia. They beg Paul to return with them. Paul would love to go to his many dear friends in Philippi, and his conscience still torments him for leaving Thessalonica in its hour of need. He promises them that some day he will surely return to them. But his first attention must be to Corinth.

Having spoken with Sosthenes so recently, Paul is surprised to find that Stephanas has just arrived with a group of the faithful from Corinth. They bring greetings, and a letter. Corinth cries out for Paul to return and restore order. The community is in confusion. There are no leaders capable of answering their questions. For instance, they want to know what to do about meat. The only meat available is what is left over from the sacrifices to the local gods. The Jews have their own butchers and have plenty of kosher meat. But the Gentiles have no butchers of their own, and they must either abstain from meat or eat the sacrificial meat sold by the idolatrous priesthood. But is it OK for Gentile Christians to eat such meat?

They’re also at a loss about the disputes that arise among themselves and that they submit to pagan judges. Their family life, too, stands in need of regulation. They’d like to know if it’s OK for a husband of the faith to live with a wife who isn’t, or whether a woman who has received baptism is allowed to live with a husband who refuses. The congregation is falling apart for lack of authoritative direction.

There are also problems with new Christians who are so exalted by the idea of Christ that they refuse to marry at all. Others will no longer live with their wives after their conversion. They beg for Paul to come and restore order to the community.

So Paul is torn. He can’t go to Corinth, because Macedonia needs him. And he can’t go to Macedonia because the congregation in Ephesus isn’t ready to stand on its’ own feet yet. There are still a number of backsliders here who want it both ways, Christians who secretly practice the worship of the ancient gods, resorting to the soothsayers and the mystic books. All this must be burned out before he leaves. For Ephesus must become an example and center for the whole province. The Jewish merchants of Colossae and Laodicea look to Ephesus for guidance in the faith.

And there’s one other thing. Paul hasn’t told anyone yet, but when his work is finished in Ephesus, Macedonia and Achaia, he plans to go to Jerusalem, fully aware that death may wait for him there. And if he survives Jerusalem, there’s still Rome to visit.

So although he can’t go to Corinth, he can write a letter to answer all their questions, and teach them the way of life in Christ. It’ll be a long letter, a cornerstone on which to build all congregations. For he will provide copies of the letter, not just to the Corinthians, but to the Christians in all the provinces. All will be guided by it.

“By the grace of God given to me, I have laid the foundations like a cunning builder, and others will build on these foundations. But let him who builds be heedful of what he builds, for there shall be no other foundation except Jesus Christ.”

And it’s on this foundation of Jesus Christ that Paul answers all the questions the Corinthians have addressed to him.


Late that night, when the delegations have left and before he lies down on his hard couch, Paul calls over his faithful Titus. The tiny candle burns nearly all night while Paul, tense with the labor of his thoughts, dictates.

“Though I speak to you with the tongues of men and of angels, and I have not love, I am just a tinkling cymbal. And though I should have the gift of prophecy and know all the secrets of knowledge and have faith so that I can move mountains, and I have not love, then I am nothing. And if I should distribute all my worldly goods to the poor and give up my body to destruction, and I have not love, it avails me nothing.

“Love is patient and long-suffering. Love is not envious. Love is not proud and swollen up.

“And now only these three remain, faith, hope, and love, and the greatest of these is love.”


After Paul has dictated the last words of the long letter, he falls back on his couch, exhausted, and sleeps at last.

And even at that hour Priscilla quietly approaches, takes the apostle’s tattered mantle and spreads it on his feet. Then she puts out the flickering lamp, and darkness spreads to the corner where Paul sleeps.

Thus Paul’s day ends, and his night begins.

25b - For Love of the Gentiles

After an absence of some months in the Greek cities where he’d gone to preach the baptism of John, Apollos returned to Ephesus. The next day, he and Paul met in Priscilla’s home. It seemed to Paul that everywhere he went in Ephesus, all he heard was Apollos this and Apollos that. Everyone, it seemed, talked about how wonderful this man was who had done so much to prepare the soil for Messiah. Not that Paul was jealous. He was fully aware of his own limitations. God had not gifted him with soft winning goodness, graciousness of speech, or warmth that characterized others. But he knew in his heart that whatever gifts God had given him, he used fully for the lord.

Paul saw before him a towering, handsome figure, with large, lustrous eyes, a high forehead, and a serene face. He gave the impression of a man just anointed. His hair and beard were carefully groomed, his lips, full but delicately chiseled, closed firmly, as if to conceal a secret. He was as careful in his dress as he was in the care of his body. The folds of his outer garment lay on him as if arranged for effect by a skillful slave. Apollos obviously had the same regard for appearance as the learned of Israel. The colored shift under his outer garment was of fine Sidonian linen. So was his wide girdle, which proclaimed him the scion of a wealthy and distinguished family. His sandals were new and fitted closely over his feet. And as he was perfect in appearance, so he was gracious and correct in his speech. Every sentence was carefully formed. His quotes were flawless, and he spoke in the charming accent of the Alexandrians.

And yet, Paul saw that something was missing. For all his grace and balance of external appearance and manner, he did not have the look of a man at peace. He didn’t have the through and through serenity Paul remembered in his young friend Barnabas. Yes, the young man of Alexandria was faultless; but the harmony of the spirit was not in him.

Paul sat opposite the elegant Alexandrian, his clothes formless, and his face and body looking as tattered as his robe. Years of dangers, fasts, and scourging had left their mark on Paul. His flesh was hard, his bones edged.

The two were alone, for Priscilla had tactfully arranged that no one witness their first encounter. There was a small table between them that contained a number of parchment scrolls. Priscilla had also placed a number of braziers with sweet-smelling spices, knowing of the gracious custom of Judea, so that the two teachers might be sustained and heartened in their sacred discourse by the smoke of incense.

Paul knew that Apollos had allowed Priscilla to talk him into being baptized in the name of Jesus Christ. But it seemed to Paul that the second baptism was rather weak, and that his heart was still steeped in John’s baptism. Ultimately, he hadn’t found the fulfillment of John’s promise, but still waited uncertainly for a true advent.

Paul listened patiently – no light task for him – while Apollos explained his doctrine of the Logos, which he’d learned from Philo in the academy of Alexandria. Like every educated Jew of the time, Paul was well acquainted with Philo’s philosophy. His influence among Hellenized Jews was profound. His ideas were carried into every part of the Diaspora, and many Jews found his doctrines to be a bulwark against paganism. In their view, the Jews of Jerusalem were stuck in a very narrow rut. For them there was but a single law that could be summed up simply. Whatever was good was to be found among the Jews, and whatever was bad was to be found among the Gentiles. But the Jews scattered throughout the Diaspora saw this as narrow-mindedness. There were Gentiles who were gentle and pure, and thought about the problems of good and evil no less than the Jews did. There were some who believed in the soul and accepted the principle of its immortality. Their worship was expressed in the adoration of beauty, and they strove to unite themselves with God through the harmony of their gods.

Paul, too, had once been interested in Philo’s system. But that was a long time ago, before he’d resolved the Logos in Christ. It was to Christ that he now ascribed all the universal attributes that made up the universe as such. And when Apollos started to expand on the idea of the Logos as the first Son of God, and of Wisdom as the second Son of God, Paul could contain himself no longer.

“God has no first and second sons. There is one, and only one, who may be called the Son of God, and of whom God said, ‘This day have I begotten you.’ And that Son is not the Logos, and not the order of the world, and not wisdom, for these things are only attributes. God’s will is justice, as our prophets have taught, and justification is to be found only in the Christ of righteousness, whom our prophets also foretold.”

Apollos was stunned by the vehemence of Paul’s outburst. He wasn’t used to being talked to this way. He believed in the ancient Jewish saying, ‘And the words of the wise are listened to with pleasure.’

But Paul wasn’t interested in conducting a philosophic discussion. He was a man with a mission. Christ was not a thesis, or a subject for intellectual discussion. Christ was the stark reality of the world, which it was Paul’s mission to unveil. He didn’t even notice the astonishment on Apollos’ face. He spoke as though he were not confronting Apollos, but the whole world of learned and subtle philosophers, to whom he was now bringing Christ as their one hope and salvation.

But Apollos, brought up in learning and right conduct, mastered himself and showed no impatience. He knew anger was a thing of evil. The philosopher doesn’t yield to passion. Therefore he curbed his tongue, and listened attentively, while the words poured forth like a torrent from Paul’s lips.

“Righteousness,” said Paul, passionately, “is the sum of all these things, logic, wisdom, beauty, goodness, even the law. The Law of Moses is just a part of righteousness. For all it encompasses, the law cannot embrace everything, and therefore the law must omit part of life.

“Now this being so, God concentrated every aspect and extension of righteousness in a single instrument. And that instrument is the Christ of righteousness, Jesus. No matter what circumstance you find yourself in, you must accept Christ as the standard of righteousness. He is not the ordered system of the world. That system is delusion and a snare and a deception. It’s an empty cistern. You go to it thirsty and come away thirsty. Christ is a flood of living waters.

“Therefore, Apollos, if you want to bring the Logos, beauty, goodness, law, wisdom to the world, you have only to bring Christ, in his oneness. He is the all in all. And since Christ is righteousness, all who believe in him are dedicated and obligated to righteousness. They are quit of the law, but they are bound to righteousness.”

Apollos listened quietly, and when Paul was done, he asked, “If, indeed, Christ is righteousness, and that little thing called law has been abrogated in the presence of the great thing called righteousness, tell me, I pray, what has become of sin?”

Paul closed his eyes and thought awhile. Then he answered in all humility, “Sin is heritage, a part of the blood. Every drop flowing in my veins is heavy with sin, which I inherited with the blood of the first man, Adam. For it’s written, ‘The intent of the thoughts of man’s heart is sin, all his days.’

“Before Adam’s sin, the world was pure as God had conceived it. Righteousness was spread across the world like dew on the fields. An eternal festival it was, of blossom and greenness. Peace was poured out on all creation. ‘God saw that it was good.’

“Now for good, think righteous. The earth grew no weeds. The rose blossomed with no thorns. Every cloud carried only as much water as was needed. And man was the chosen and elect of creation. His daily life was a song of praise to the Creator.

“But Adam brought in sin and passed it down to us. Sin became our second nature. It sleeps in us like a wild beast, waiting to suddenly attack us.”

Paul became visibly shaken as he suddenly cried out, “A thorn sticks in my flesh. Oh, who will save me from myself, if not you, lord?”

He tried to stop himself, but the words came tumbling out, “God took pity on his creation. He saw men drowning, unable to save themselves. He remembered the promise He made to our ancestors, and He took His only Son, Whom He’d kept at His side since before the creation, to be the salvation of mankind, and He sent him down to earth in the likeness of a man of flesh and blood. And He gave him the nature of one of flesh and blood, that he might wipe away the sins of mankind with his blood. Every drop of blood that flowed from his veins became like a stormy sea. Every pang of agony became a fiery star. Flood and fire cleansed away the sin of the world.

“But God showed His love not to us alone, of the seed of Abraham, he showed His love to everyone who has the blood of man in him. He’s the God of the whole world, and He showed His love to all of us, Jew and Gentile. Even as sin came on all mankind through one, so justification and righteousness shall come on all men through one. This is my faith in Christ. I bring this faith, according to my own knowledge of the gospel, to mankind. For if we are justified by faith, so we are at peace with God through our lord, Jesus Christ.”

Apollos, long accustomed to scholars’ quiet exchange of ideas, listened to the end, while searching for a way to answer his passionate opponent. He debated with himself whether to tell Paul something he had learned while away from Ephesus.

Therefore he rose up, bowed before Paul, and said, “With the permission of the apostle, I would say the following. Your words are as green and fresh as the leaves of the cypress tree planted by the flowing waters. You stand close to the spring of faith, and your roots draw in its waters. But some of those waters have reached me also, who am the poor thorn bush in the wilderness.

“Surely your words are true. Who can deny them? You call Christ ‘Son of God.’ Of Solomon too He said, ‘I shall be to him a father, and he shall be to me a son.’ And he also said, ‘This day I have begotten you.’ And Moses said about all Jews, ‘You are sons to the Lord your God.’ Likewise our sages have used the phrase, ‘Sons of the Eternal.’

“Now if all the sons of Israel are called sons of God, so too would Christ be so called. The Wisdom of Solomon also says, ‘The Son of God, he is righteous.’ And the righteous man is the atonement for his generation. For who are we who are of flesh and blood? We are like a ship that rides through the sea and leaves not a trace behind. We are like the birds that fly through the air, and after they pass no one can tell the place of their passing. So we too pass and there is no trace of our passage on earth. The just man stands between the Eternal and us; he takes on himself the sins of his generation. Christ died for our sins, even as it is written . . .”

By this time Paul was so weary of quotation after quotation, verse after verse, and he was so sick of this man’s calm elegance of speech and diction more fitted for public display than for intimate conversation, that he broke in vehemently.

“Apollos, you quote many verses like pouring out peas from a sack. Are we concerned here with a king, or with a righteous man? I speak of the Son, the one and only Son, who was with God in heaven. I speak of Christ who was sent down to earth to help mankind. I talk about him who died in torment, that his blood might redeem the sin of all mankind and that man might be restored to the paradise that was his before the sin of Adam. Now why do you try to confuse me with sweet speech?”

Apollos stared, and then answered. But this time he spoke slowly and his voice was less elegant and more humble.

“I’ve learned that Christ came to wash away the sin of Adam with his blood and to bring back righteousness. Thus it follows that whoever believes in Christ is purified of the sin of Adam. That is to say, he has been returned to the world of Paradise.

“Now I could believe this if the Christians, the so called believers in Christ, would live like they were in Paradise. But if they live again in sin, then surely the blood of Christ has been shed in vain.

“Now I ask you Paul, do the Christians indeed live in a world of pure goodness? I have just returned from Corinth where I lived among the Christians, the same people you weaned away from idol worship. And what did I see? I saw anger and quarreling, boasting and lying. The rich bring their own rich dishes to the feasts of the lord and the poor bring their own dry bread. They shame the body of the lord with their hoggish eating. And their whoredoms? They do things I haven’t even heard among the heathen. One of them married his father’s wife, and he still lives in the congregation.

“They don’t settle their disputes among themselves in their own courts. They drag the guilty before the courts of the unbelievers, before the Gentile judges.

“And who do they listen to? They listen to and believe whoever has the last word. Some say they belong to the apostle Peter. Some even made me an apostle.

“Where is the righteousness God planted in the congregation of believers through Christ? Open your eyes, Paul, and look around! Sin has risen like a flood and overwhelms them. Christ must be crucified daily for his blood to cope with the floods of sin. His blood must flow without ceasing to cover unceasing sins.”

After a speechless moment, Apollos made a helpless gesture, and continued, “You’ve placed the greatest of all obligations on the Christians, but if the Christians don’t honor the obligation, the blood of Christ has been shed in vain, and your words are like the wind blown into a ventless ram’s horn, from which no sound issues.”

Paul sat bowed, as if a hammer were raining its blows on his head. He seemed to be shrinking, like he wanted to disappear into the earth. His face was yellow, his mouth distorted with pain. He felt responsible for the sins of the Corinthians.

He’d heard rumors about the conduct of the Corinthians, and Stephanus had written to him with various questions people had been asking. But Apollos’ little speech really hammered it home. Paul felt that he’d abandoned them in their need.

In a broken voice, he answered, “Brother Apollos! Didn’t the Jews sin before the giving of the law at Sinai? Even while Moses was on Sinai, they made the golden calf. Many times God had a mind to destroy them, but Moses intervened, and prayed for them. He offered himself as an atonement for the sins of the people. That love for the Jews that was so strong in Moses must be poured out on all the Gentiles who are drawn into the faith of Christ. I’ve put all my trust in him. Jesus Christ, I said, would lead the hosts of the Gentiles out of the wilderness of sin and uncleanness with his love.

“And we must learn one more thing from Moses, brother Apollos. We must learn patience. Therefore, I ask that you help me in the love of Christ. You are learned, your heart is filled with knowledge, and your mouth pours forth sweet speech. Come, then, help me to spread the love of Christ, so that it may fall like dew on the withered field of the Gentiles.”

25a - For Love of the Gentiles

The more idolatrous and unclean a city was, the closer the Jews huddled together and the more firmly they clung to their quarter. Each person helped to guard his neighbor against infection, and in turn found help for himself. Constant vigilance was the only thing that saved them from extinction.

The Jewish quarter in Ephesus was built on the foundations of ancient ruins on a sandy stretch of land under the shadow of Mount Prion, surrounded by olive and cypress. It consisted of a maze of courts running into each other. As the number of Jews increased, the maze widened and became more involved.

The Jews had long enjoyed the right to religious freedom under a charter granted by Julius Caesar and ratified by subsequent emperors. So they lived a life apart, separated from the spirit of the city, the universal worship of Artemis.

Artemis of Ephesus was one of the most prominent and mysterious goddesses of the ancient world. Apollo himself had sent her down from heaven. She had a sacred, demonic power that inspired a cult of intimate, mysterious rites, the formulas of which were carefully guarded in the “Books of Ephesus.” She’d been worshipped for so long that she was ancient when Alexander the Great bowed before her and offered sacrifice on her altar before he set out to attack Persia. The veil of mystery drawn around her by her guardians and magicians had an extraordinary appeal to Hellenic people, who were thus filled with emotions associated with no other deity. She competed with many gods, not only the dark gods of Asia, but even those of Olympus. Any Gentile who felt the slightest impulse toward faith was attracted by Artemis, and by the mystic aura that surrounded her.

The Jews never worshipped her, of course, but they didn’t ignore her either. Ephesus was a city of great commerce and most of its Jews were dealers or hand-craftsmen. Some of them made copies of the “mystery books”, adding formulas of their own, while some sold amulets and sacred medicines. The attraction of such a tremendous market was too much for them to ignore.

The rabbis bitterly opposed this traffic in amulets and other objects of superstitious worship. They were forever protesting, and warning that assisting idolaters was no different than being an idolater. Sometimes they scourged the peddlers of love philters and magic manuscripts, and occasionally even excommunicated a few, a dread punishment in those days. But they persisted in the traffic anyway.

“What can I do?” said one man. “I’ve a wife and children to feed. Let them find me another livelihood, and I’ll gladly practice it. Do they think I like this abomination?”


When Paul left Aquila and Priscilla in Ephesus to prepare the field for him, they made their new home and set up their little factory in one of the Jewish courtyards. The home consisted of four wooden walls in a corner of a court, covered with sheets of goat’s haircloth. This frail booth, for it was hardly more than that, became a gathering place for those Aquila and Priscilla were attempting to convert to the faith. A traveler could find rest and a spoonful of warm food, so that both body and soul were ministered to.

When Paul arrived in Ephesus, he found a company of men and women in Priscilla’s care who were not yet convinced that Messiah had come. They were still under the influence of John the Baptist, and were preparing themselves for his coming. This was not peculiar to Ephesus. There were “Brotherhoods of Messiah” in many cities whose members had accepted John’s baptism and who lived in piety and separation from the world, much like the Essenes, praying, fasting, and keeping their lives pure.

The “Brotherhood” in Ephesus may have been stronger because of a certain Jew from Alexandria with the Greek name of Apollos, a strong and gifted speaker who had strengthened the effect of John’s teaching there. Aquila and Priscilla were able to convince him that the Messiah foretold by John had already come, and Apollos received baptism in Jesus’ name. He then left Ephesus and went to Achaia to preach. Some of his followers, however, twelve in all, were still convinced that Messiah had not yet come, and for the time being they contented themselves with John’s baptism.

Paul gathered these men in Priscilla’s little house and talked to them. He told them that their baptism was in vain, their fasting and purifying was in vain, and all of their preparations were in vain. If they did not believe in Jesus and be baptized in his name, all these other things were worthless.


The following Sabbath, a crowd of Jews assembled in front of the synagogue, a building surrounded by Ionian columns like all structures of its kind in the city. Paul had just delivered a sermon on the subject of Messiah, and the people were engaged in lively discussion about it rather than going home. These were people who’d listened much to Apollos when he was there, and they loved him and his words. So as they talked about that morning’s sermon, they couldn’t help but compare it and the speaker with Apollos and his unforgettable messages.

The general consensus was that Paul was not a bad speaker, for he had power, and was clearly strong in the scriptures. But can one mention him in the same breath with the Alexandrian? Apollos’ words were like a stream of pearls. Ah, what a voice he had when he quoted and interpreted verses. He gave them Messiah as if he were a precious stone put into their hand.

One said, “Well, if people want to believe that Paul’s Messiah is indeed true, well, I won’t stand against them. But what a pity that Paul doesn’t have the honeyed tongue of Apollos. You know, friends, that I’m a lover of fine speech and I’m not ignorant of the books, and I’m by no means unfit to teach children the ways of Jewish learning, as you all know. I know what fine speech is, and I say –“

At this point a sandal maker named Joseph interrupted him. “Now what point is there in comparing the Alexandrian preacher with this man? Sure, Apollos was a great preacher, but that’s all he was. This man’s not a preacher; he’s a messenger. No, no, he is the messenger of Messiah himself, who entrusted him with the gospel, placed his hands on him, and bid him go proclaim the truth. And you know the Holy Spirit lives in anyone on whom Messiah places his hands.

Now Joseph had many children, most of them sick with various diseases. He’d lost a lot of hair over the years over all his disasters, and was now bald. Poverty and sickness had made him a great pietist and believer.

“We’ve all heard of the twelve who have the power. Anyone they touch is healed. So it is with this man. You heard what he did for Abraham the dyer, didn’t you? Abraham’s wife lay sick for a whole year, and this man went into Abraham’s tent, touched the woman with his hand, looked at her and said, ‘Arise!’ And she arose. Ah, that my wife would be healed like that, and my children too, who lie sick without a mother to tend them.”

A silversmith indicated Joseph with his thumb and said to the others, “Apparently our friend Joseph has been a visitor to Aquila and Priscilla’s house.”

“Sure I have,” cried Joseph. “And what of it? It’s a good Jewish home, and anyone who goes there will hear a good Jewish word.”

“Really? And should one also receive baptism at the hands of those two heathen saints, the Gentiles Paul brought? What are their names, Titus and Timothy?”

“May the Jews be as saintly as these two Gentiles!” said Joseph, hotly. “They believe in the one living God of Israel, and in his Prophets, and you call them Gentiles. If they’re Gentiles, well, write me down as a Gentile, too.”

Half laughing and half reproving, another Jew said, “You are well tangled in the net, Joseph.”

“And why shouldn’t he be? A man with a sick wife and sick children believes that the apostle can cure his wife, so that she can cure the children. All the apostle has to do is look at her and call on the name of Jesus Christ.”

“Seriously,” put in another, “he has done it.”

And indeed, he had. Although he didn’t do it often, Paul knew he had the power to heal. He just needed to call on that power, for the cause of Christ, and it would manifest itself. He believed that nothing was impossible for him if it served the faith.

Paul was quick to understand that the Jews of Ephesus were touched with the superstitions of their neighbors and that they were inclined to respect the deeds of the soothsayers and the healers. Therefore he decided that it wouldn’t be enough for him to preach and explain. Philosophy and argument would not convince them. What they needed was a demonstration of power, the overwhelming evidence of deeds. So he decided to destroy the Ephesian goddess with her own weapons.

What Joseph the sandal maker revealed as his belief that Sabbath morning eventually became the belief of countless others. Thousands, who’d never seen or heard of Paul were carried away by a wave of trust. It was said that the touch of his hand, the breath of his mouth, even his clothes, had the power to heal, to drive out evil spirits, and perform all manner of wonders in the name of Jesus.

24 - Paul the Apostle

In the end it wasn’t Peter who was pushed out of the congregation. It was Paul.

There are certain people God has graced so that no matter what they might do wrong, their personality wins over the people, and in the end, all is forgiven. The warmth that radiated from Peter’s heart flooded everyone around him, and won everyone to him. Even the Gentiles forgave him for shaming them. They even tried to reform. On the other hand, the letters from Jerusalem, condemning Paul’s doctrines, made a deep impression on the congregation, and with his personality, it was easy for people to look at him with unfriendly eyes.

Paul suddenly found himself cut off from his own congregation.

The doors of the houses and shops were once filled with his followers greeting him joyously from afar. Now he wandered the streets a lonely man. The whole quarter, once illuminated with lanterns when he returned from his mission to the Galatians, was now filled with lowered brows and angry eyes. And he heard the bitter whisper of voices as he passed.

“There he goes, the traitor of Israel!”
“He tears out the Law by its roots.”
“Is it any wonder? It hasn’t been that long since he bound the faithful in chains. You can bet your life he still has those chains.”
“No doubt about it. He always tried to work himself into the good graces of the High Priest. And you know why? The High Priest had a daughter, and Saul wanted to marry her. And when the High Priest showed him the door, Saul turned against him, and before the day was over he became one of the faithful.”
“Now I get it. Just like he once persecuted the faithful, now he persecutes the congregation of Israel. He sows discord everywhere he goes. He provokes Gentiles against Jews.”
“Traitor!”
“High Priest’s son-in-law!”

Such were the rumors that Paul heard. And when he entered the congregation the next Sabbath, he could feel the angry stares of the believers. Some of the zealots confronted him directly.

“What are you doing in the congregation of Messiah, traitor!”
“Balaam! Korah!”

Fortunately, Titus and Timothy accompanied Paul, or he might very well have been thrown right out into the street.

The believers in Jerusalem didn’t know, and the believers in Antioch didn’t understand how much the apostle had done in plowing and planting for the lord. All they were hearing about was the dissension Paul created, turning Messiah into a stranger who couldn’t live with Israel. They did not know, or would not know, of the chain of congregations he’d founded across the mountains of Galatia down to the Aegean Sea. It did not touch them that he’d carried the name of God and of Christ to nations who’d never heard of the one or the other and had planted the hope of redemption in hearts sealed by uncleanness.

Paul was spared nothing. Some made it their business to make sure he knew every spiteful thing said about him. He listened and made no answer. His heart was hot with anger, but he was silent. As long as the rumors and accusations concerned only his person, he toughed it out and said nothing. Rather than split the congregation of the lord, he swallowed his bitterness, though it tasted like poison.

In his tablets, however, he did write down the fiery sentences that would later be used in his letters.

But then something happened that he could not endure in silence.

Some Galatians came to Antioch and told him of the confusion created in the mountain communities by letters sent from Jerusalem. The Gentile Christians were confused and bewildered. The letters said that Paul, who once persecuted the faithful in Jerusalem, had never even seen Messiah and had never heard his doctrines from his own lips. The letters insisted that Messiah had said, “Heaven and earth will pass away before even one jot or tittle of the Torah.”

Thus the Jews were telling the Gentiles that they could never be saved or have any portion in Israel if they didn’t fulfill the laws and commandments of Moses. Even if Paul did see a vision, they said, no vision could abrogate the very words of Messiah that they, the elders themselves, had heard with their own ears. Paul had no authority to spread the gospel according to his own interpretation. Only the direct disciples of Messiah had the authority to preach according to the instructions of Messiah. And James, the lord’s brother, was their leader.

In fact, one of the letters had been written by James who said, among other things, “What good is it if a man says he has faith, but he has no good works? Can his faith save him? When a brother or sister is naked, and has no food, and one says, ‘Go in peace, be clothed and fed,’ what good is it if he gives him no clothing or food?

“So faith in itself is dead if it has no works.

“So one might say, ‘You have faith and I have works. Show me your faith without your works, and I will show you my faith through my works.

“For faith acts only through works.

“As the body without the soul is dead, so is faith without works.”

The simple, straightforward words of James deeply moved the faithful, particularly the Jews. Paul’s doctrine, then, was a doctrine of “false gods.” The faithful dared not listen to him.

The poor, simple Galatians didn’t know what to believe or do. Many of the Gentile believers were so terrified by the message that they went to the Jews and begged to be admitted into the covenant of Abraham, through circumcision. But other, weaker ones fell away completely from the faith. In between, there were many undecided who didn’t know which way to turn.

When Paul heard all this, he was filled with dread and anger. He could see his work on the brink of disaster. The building he’d erected was collapsing, as though it wasn’t the work of God but of the devil.

He couldn’t have felt worse if he’d seen the heavens opened and the very son of Satan descending on fiery clouds. He had visions of the poor Gentiles of Galatia, who just yesterday were idol worshippers. He could just see the confusion on their faces, for now they didn’t know if they were standing with God or Satan. Their eyes were turned to him, pleading for help.


Paul saw himself standing on a narrow pathway. He began to climb through the mountains that led to Galatia, but suddenly the path came to an end. On either side were black abysses, out of which protruded immense needles of rock. In front of him was space, gaping like the opened jaws of a crocodile. Then the path opened again and rose to the summit of a mountain. He couldn’t see the summit, for it was bathed in mist, but he could feel it towering over him. He noticed that the path beneath his feet was covered with a low, dense growth, with gnarled roots and savage cactus plants. Some of them had pincers that snatched at him and fastened onto his body. As he stood forlorn, these unspeakable creatures began to move, to close in on him. Silently they wound themselves around his feet. He must get out of this place! But there is no forward and there is no backward!

A cry tore its way out of Paul’s heart, “Lord, lord! I didn’t enter this path alone. You took me and placed me on it. Help me now!”

Then he saw a hand stretched out toward him from the summit of the mountain, which was suddenly unveiled. With that the nightmare ended and Paul’s body relaxed.

Awake now and bathed in tears, Paul cried, “Father in heaven! Do not set me at odds with my own flesh and blood!”

He saw Titus and Timothy standing over him. They lifted him up and placed him on his bed. Paul felt the cool, soft hands of Timothy on his face and forehead bathing him with vinegar.

“All will be well,” said Paul, still speaking to the vision. “It wasn’t me who chose the road to Damascus. You alone set my feet on it. You lifted me out of the gutter of sin, and washed me clean with your blood. You chose me as your vessel, and who can break me? You sent me on your mission to the Gentiles, and who can take it away from me?

“Even though they in Jerusalem have closed the gates of the synagogue to me, I’ve built my own congregation with the authority you gave me out of your own mouth, lord. The world is my congregation, and all men are worshippers in it. I will bring the gospel to them, which I haven’t learned from other men, but through your revelation to me.”

He asked Timothy to bring him papyrus, pen, and ink. He didn’t dictate this time, but wrote with his own hand. He sat on the floor, legs folded under him, brows drawn together, face tense. Trembling, he dipped the metal pen into the colored fluid, and began his letter to the Galatians, in which he declared his independence and authority.

“Paul, an apostle, not by men, but by Jesus Christ, and God the Father who raised him from the dead.

“I declare to you, my brothers, that the gospel I preached to you is not according to man, for I did not receive it from man, nor was I taught it by man, but by the revelation of Jesus Christ.

“Know that a man is not justified by the works of the law, but by the faith of Jesus Christ.

“For you are all children in God, by faith in Jesus Christ.

“And because you are sons, God sent forth the spirit of His Son to your hearts, crying, Abba, Father!

“Therefore you are no more a servant, but a son, and an heir of God through Christ.

“Stand fast then in the freedom in which Christ has made you free. . . be not entangled again with the yoke of a servant, the yoke of the law, in which you cease to be sons and fall again into servitude and heathendom, and fall away from grace.

“For in Jesus Christ circumcision and uncircumcision are without meaning. Only faith has meaning, which works through love.

“The whole law is fulfilled in this word, you shall love your neighbor as yourself.

“See how long a letter I have written you, and by my own hand.”

* * * * *

It was time to get back to work. There was a congregation-in-waiting back in Ephesus just begging to hear the gospel. The sick and the possessed there came in hordes to the Temple of Diana to be consumed by false prophets and other human birds of prey, and he vowed in his heart that he wouldn’t rest until he planted the name of the God of Israel, and of Christ in Ephesus. He also wanted to stop and visit the congregations in Galatia to reinforce in person what he’d written down on papyrus. He wanted to hearten and encourage them, and to strengthen them in the faith.

Barnabas, who was still torn between his dedication to James and his love for Paul, came to see him off.

The two friends looked at each other in silence. The years since their last meeting had left the folds and wrinkles of many labors and sorrows on their faces. Barnabas’ immense black beard was streaked here and there with white. His handsome, clear countenance, with its great gray eyes and its lofty, luminous forehead, that had caused the Gentiles to think of Jupiter, had been plowed by the plow of the lord. Therefore its creases shone with the light of grace.

His boyhood friend stood before him an old, broken man, with tear sacs under his eyes, his forehead crowned with a wreath of gray.

He took his friend's hands in his, and said, “My brother, wherever you go, I’ll be with you, for I know that whatever you do, you will do in the name of heaven. Just don’t cut yourself off from your own flesh and blood, my brother. Your brothers are trodden under foot everywhere for the God of Israel and for His Torah. They are lower than the dust, shamed and rejected, a prey to all the world. They belong to none but God, and it was for them that God sent His redeemer.”

Paul looked at him steadfastly and answered, “God forbid! I have not come to create discord with my brothers, but to make peace; not to break up, but to unite. Have you ever heard me preach that Jews should cease from circumcision? I say, they who are circumcised, let them remain circumcised. But if external circumcision becomes the only gate through which there is entry into the Kingdom of Heaven, then I say that our labor is in vain. If justification is only through the Torah, then Christ died in vain.”

* * * * *

Three travelers once again started out on foot across the wooded slopes of the Taurus range, Paul’s homeland. One of them, tall and young, went before, loaded with baggage. The second, also young, supported the footsteps of the third, an elderly, stooping man. They went slowly, disentangling their feet from the soft moss and the labyrinth of roots that covered the earth. Tenderly and with much attention, the second young man guided and supported his companion past the mounds of stones and across the brooks that started out from the soil.

So they went from morning till night, pausing at noon for rest in the shadow of green cypresses. In the evenings they kindled little fires against the coolness descending from the slopes. At night, if they couldn’t find a dwelling, they slept in the abandoned booths of shepherds, or in the open air, in the scooped-out hollow of a dried stream.

Once again the apostle climbed toward the dread “Syrian Gate,” to bring the gospel to the cities of Galatia. The first time the mission had consisted solely of Jews, Paul and Barnabas. This time, only one member of the group was a Jew. His companions were Timothy, half Greek and half Jew, and Titus, wholly Greek and uncircumcised.

So they came to Galatia. Once again the apostle passed through the familiar cities and through his communities, the first fruits of his planting. Great was his joy to be among them again, and great was theirs to have him with them. Familiar faces, familiar figures, familiar greetings. He preached for them and strengthened them. He sought to allay the storm raised by the messengers of James that was threatening to spread far out to Derbe, Lystra, and Antioch in Pisidia.

When they visited Timothy’s mother again, they found a new disciple, Gaius. Paul took him with them on his journeys.

So they traveled, part of the way on foot, and part of the way in carriages, through Colossae and Leukida and Hieropolis, cities of the Gentiles. But these were Gentiles whose spirit was thirsty for a word of salvation. Paul would have liked to have stayed longer, but he couldn’t dawdle now. He was in a hurry to reach Ephesus, the city of the goddess Artemis. The memory of the abominations he’d seen provoked in him a lust for conquest. He longed, like a general with his emperor in mind, to conquer the city and to lay it at the feet of his lord Christ.

23 - The Breaking Point

Even though Paul preached that the Gentiles didn’t need to obey the Law of Moses, he himself submitted to the commandments as though he’d received the Torah directly from Sinai and that it was meant only for him. Thus, when he saw that the conditions of his Nazarite vow had been fulfilled, he prepared to leave for Jerusalem, to perform the final ceremony of absolution in the Temple. He appointed elders to be in charge in the Corinthian church, bid farewell to the congregation, and left for the port of Cenchrea, taking Aquila, Priscilla, Timothy, and Silas along with him.

He got his hair cut in Cenchrea, for the law allowed him to do this before he got to Jerusalem. From Cenchrea he sailed for a Syrian port, planning to re-embark there on a ship carrying pilgrims to the Holy Land.

The first ship set down at the port of Ephesus, the city he’d avoided on his previous journeys. But there he was, without having planned it, and somehow it seemed that God had guided him there.

He immediately encountered a group of Syrian stargazers, their bodies so covered with tattoos of the constellations, the Milky Way, and astrological beasts, that they looked like woven cloth. They held rolls of papyri in their hands that explained the mysteries of their craft, planet cycles, and likenesses of gods. Eager listeners of many stripes surrounded the magicians, some enquiring about their destinies according to their dates of birth and the constellations they’d been born under.

As Paul and his companions passed by on their way to the city gates, one of the stargazers came over and stopped them. The man stared at Paul and suddenly cried out, “Stop! Do not dare to pass under this gate, for you go to your destruction.”

Coming closer, and keeping his eyes on Paul, he said, “Stranger, I see in the lines of your forehead that you were born in the month when the fiery chariot of Apollo ascends in the east. You are caught in his chariot wheels. Today is a fatal day for you. I advise you to turn aside and pass this night in one of the nearby booths. In the early morning, when the morning star shows in the east and the evening star has sunk in the west, you can cross the threshold of the city of Artemis. But remember, you must set your left foot forward when you enter the city.

"That’ll be one drachma each, please.”

With this the stargazer held out his open palm.

“Cursed be the abomination,” muttered Paul, and spat out three times according to the formula of a pious Jew.

“Stranger, you go to your death! Great Artemis will be upset with you.”

One of the other stargazers called out, “Don’t you see that these are Jews, who don’t believe in our gods?”

To which the first answered, in disgust, “Strangers multiply in our city everyday. They spread unbelief wherever they come.”

* * * * *

The city of Ephesus was filled with pilgrims from every part of the Asian and Roman world. Men, women, and children came to bow down before the wooden image of Artemis, which was said to have fallen from heaven. The temple of Artemis was one of the Seven Wonders of the World, for it was the greatest and most magnificent temple in heathendom. Like every shrine city, Ephesus was full of inns, hospices, and hostelries, and there were endless rows of stalls where goldsmiths, silversmiths, and coppersmiths displayed their copies of the idol.

The heathen pilgrims came with their sick, leading some by the hand, carrying others on their backs. The wealthier were carried in litters. Everywhere groups were gathered around the stargazers, snake charmers, and herb sellers. One sold phials of water from a lake where the goddess had been seen to bathe. It was good for all sicknesses. Another sold leaves for boils, a third spices that awakened love, and a fourth roots that opened the womb of the barren.

Paul and his companions pushed their way slowly through the thick crowds and eventually managed to discover the Jewish synagogue. Later while sitting there in the cool shadows of the synagogue court, surrounded by the elders, Paul felt his heart swell with pride for his own flesh and blood.

“In an ocean of heathendom,” he thought, “they’ve remained pure as newborn children. May my portion be with you, O Israel.”

Paul preached in the synagogue the following Sabbath. This time he said nothing to provoke the Jews. He quoted the Law of Moses, and quoted Moses himself as a witness that the tidings of Messiah had to be brought to Ephesus. The Jews listened with interest and showed eagerness to know more of this Messiah and of the wonders he performed among the Gentiles.

Afterwards, the elders went with Paul to the head of the synagogue’s house, where they asked him to stay in their city and preach. But Paul said no.

“I can’t stay any longer. I must observe the upcoming festival in Jerusalem. But God willing I’ll be back.”

Paul resolved that with God’s help he would return to this place he’d avoided before, for he could see that there was a rich harvest here. The heathen came to this place to find help and hope for the future. Although they sought help from the heathen goddess, suffering had softened their hearts, and they were ready for the word of the true faith. But before he could start this ministry, he needed to fulfill his vow.

When a ship taking a group of Jewish pilgrims to the Holy Land became available, he took Silas and Timothy and boarded. They disembarked at Caesarea and went straight to Jerusalem.

Aquila and Priscilla stayed behind to prepare the ground for the seed of Messiah, even as they’d prepared it for him in Corinth.

* * * * *

The moment Paul set foot in James’ domain, he felt like an icy wind was wrapped around him. The believers shrank away as if he were the Saul of earlier years. No one wanted to listen to the wonders God had performed. He felt certain that Simon would listen, but when he went to see him, he was told that Simon had gone to Antioch.

James, the lord’s brother, spent most of his time fasting and praying in the Temple court, and the lord’s younger brother Jude avoided Paul like the plague. All eyes that glanced at him showed hostility before they quickly glanced away.

Seeing all this, even his beloved companion Silas, who’d gone through so many trials with him, began to distance himself.

So within just a few days, Paul decided to go to Antioch. He just knew that Simon Peter would not reject him. Simon would rejoice with him for all the pains he suffered, at the hands of strangers and at the hands of his own, and he would bear with him for the humiliations he was suffering in Jerusalem. He took Timothy with him.


Much had happened to Simon since he last saw Paul. The intense words Paul had spoken about the door God had opened for the Gentiles had caused restlessness in him. Ever since seeing the young converted Gentile Titus, his face shining with the faith of Messiah, he’d had a secret desire for the Gentiles, and he’d left Jerusalem.

“After all,” he said to himself, “the world is full of Tituses. Why shouldn’t I be the one to bring the faith to them? Am I not the rock? Didn’t Messiah appear to me and tell me there was no difference between kosher and nonkosher?”

So on a certain day, Peter took his wife, whom he’d started calling “sister”, and John Mark, who would serve as his companion and interpreter, and they all went to Antioch, where Simon was received with much love and respect.

Truth be told, he was pretty much mobbed by the believers there. They wanted to touch him, or at least roll in the dust of his footprints. They thought that even his very breath would cure their sicknesses. Some of them asked him to give them his robe, his girdle, or pretty much anything that touched him.

Simon was deeply touched by all this admiration, and he sort of soaked it up. The outpouring of love made him soft and forgiving of all things. Freed from the constant discipline and regulation of the Jewish faith, and from the watchful gaze of those in Jerusalem, he went into the houses of the Gentiles, lived with them, ate at their tables, and paid no attention to the question of clean and unclean foods.

The Christian congregation now had its own prayer house, next to the synagogue after which it was patterned. The congregation was well organized, with its’ own elders and deacons, and regarded itself as second only to the congregation in Jerusalem. Indeed, it claimed a large degree of independence, having long ago assumed the right to ordain its own apostles and to send them out to preach the gospel.

At some point the Christian congregation began to develop along its own lines, apart from the synagogue, so that, both in the building itself and in the ceremony of its worship, differences slowly appeared and multiplied. There was a mosaic picture of the sacrifice of Isaac on the wall along with the shofar, a symbol of the resurrection, just like the synagogue. But instead of the candelabrum, other symbols painted or worked in mosaic by Greek artists began to appear. For example, there was a cross, the symbol of Christ’s sacrifice for the salvation of mankind. There was also a depiction of a table, with twelve seats arranged around it, and bread and wine on the table, although there were no human figures in the picture.

The biggest change was in the common meal, the highest ceremony in the Christian prayer houses. The wealthy Greeks, merchants, and ship owners among the membership started the practice of celebrating the common meals among themselves in their luxurious homes. Thus the “breaking of bread” in the name of Christ was transformed into rich banquets that excluded the poor. Simon felt uncomfortable about attending these celebrations, but he, his wife, and Mark had accepted the invitation of the wealthy merchant Manaen to be his houseguests, so he felt he had to go. He worried that these banquets were just an excuse for the indulgence of the flesh in riotous eating and drinking, but he was a man of peace, and so decided not to say anything.

In the congregation itself, there were many poor Jewish workers, having been among the first to accept the faith of Christ. There were also many poor Greeks among them who had accepted the faith in the early days, and who conducted themselves almost wholly as if they were Jews. Whenever Simon joined in their common meals, he felt much more comfortable than he did at the rich feasts, and he found himself spending more and more time with the poor. Eventually he moved from Manaen’s house and went to live in the poor quarter. Even on the Sabbaths, he took his place among the poor who lined the walls in the synagogue.

He didn’t completely break off his relations with the rich Jews, of course. He still attended some of their celebrations in an attempt to bridge the gap that existed between the Jewish Christians and the Gentile Christians.

And so it was until the break came.


Messengers came from Jerusalem with letters of denunciation from James, Jude, and others among the holy ones. Pilgrims from all provinces were bringing countless bitter complaints about “Saul”, saying he was creating dissension and strife in every Jewish community he went to. Because of this horror, the Jewish believers were unanimous in declaring that Paul was trying to erect a barrier between the one living God and Messiah. The preaching of Saul, they said, went far beyond liberating the Gentiles from the heavy discipline of Jewish law. What he proposed was that the Jews themselves should abandon the law, and that was totally against the spirit of the decision made at the Jerusalem council. It was therefore necessary, they had decided, to strengthen the spirit of the Jews, so that they might not fall away completely.

Similar letters were being sent to all the communities visited by “Saul”, warning them that the messenger did not have the authority of an apostle from the holy congregation of Jerusalem. Furthermore, it was specifically stated that the Gentiles could not be saved unless they submitted to the laws and commandments of the Torah.

Peter, shaken by this news, stopped eating at the tables of the Gentiles completely.

It was at this point that Paul arrived in Antioch.


“Brother Saul,” Peter said, boldly. “What’ve you done? Messiah sent us to be a light to the Gentiles, but you use that light to set fire to the House of Israel. You teach things that are hard to understand. Those of us who heard our lord in person can testify that he never commanded us to do what you’re doing. You tear Messiah away from the Jews and give him to the Gentiles. Are we rebels and backsliders? Messiah is the fulfillment of the promises made to our fathers. He’s the hope of Israel. Without Israel, there is no Messiah!”

Peter said these things because, well, after all, Messiah had entrusted the care of the flock to him, right? He must guard it against all evil from without and from within.

“See here, Saul! You’ve made us like those who made the golden calf! Let us mourn, and pour ashes on our heads.”

“Brother Simon,” answered Paul, holding in his anger, “you are the apostle to the Jews and are proud of your work. I am the apostle to the Gentiles, and I am proud of my work. I received my mission from none other than Christ himself. I say there cannot be one God for the Jews and another for the Gentiles. There is only one God. Likewise there cannot be a Messiah for the Jews and a Christ for the Gentiles. There is only one. Therefore there cannot be a congregation of Jews and a congregation of Gentiles. There can be only one congregation.”

Simon had no answer to these words.


The letter from Jerusalem made a deep impression on the Jewish believers. Wherever Paul appeared among them, a wall of silence greeted him. The Jewish believers stayed away from him, and once again the stories of his early years, as the young man Saul, were retold. Nor could his years of labor expiate the memory.

A fire of anger and scorn was kindled in Paul’s heart. He’d never sought any reward for his sufferings and labor, but it was intolerable that he should be challenged in the matter of the authority he’d received from Christ himself.

There were a few who remained at his side, and he found some measure of comfort from them. There was Titus, for example. He hadn’t seen him in quite a while, but he’d received reports of the work the young man was doing in Antioch. There was also Timothy, who met Titus now for the first time. These two were Paul’s mainstays. They stayed with him, serving him and guarding him in Antioch.

Then the following happened.

There was a great assembly of rich believers in Manaen’s house, who came to observe the ceremonial meal among themselves. Peter learned that Paul, Titus, Timothy, Barnabas, and John Mark were going, so he went too.

Peter was offered the seat of honor, but he declined. The table was loaded with roasted pheasants that made it look more like a banquet rather than a simple breaking of bread. And there were plenty of unclean foods at the table also. Peter thought of the simple meal shared with the lord when he lifted up the simple cup of wine and blessed it. No, he wouldn’t sit at this table or any table in this place. Barnabas and John Mark joined him in his refusal to participate.

Some tried to get Peter to change his mind. “I beg you, do not dishonor our table. The most important members of the congregation are here.”

And Simon Niger pleaded, “What will the Gentiles say? They’ll say you’re ashamed to sit with them at one table.”

And Lucius of Cyrene added, “They’ll say you sit with Jews, but that it’s beneath you to sit with us.”

“Yes I sit with the Jews,” answered Peter. “I sit with them because they break bread in the synagogue humbly, in purity and holiness.”

He combed his thick beard with his fingers as he said, “Remove these abominations from the table. I won’t sit with those who eat uncleanness and turn the breaking of bread into a banquet of idolaters. I won’t sit at table with Gentiles.”

The leaders of the Antioch community stared at him, speechless. Paul, who was standing off to one side, felt his blood growing hot in him. He didn’t want to shame Peter, but he knew he had to speak up. So he ran forward and confronted Simon.

“Simon Peter!” he burst out. “The Gentiles you shame would let their bodies be burned for the faith of Christ!”

“They eat the meat of strangled animals, they drink blood just like idolaters do. I won’t sit with them!”

“Simon Peter,” retorted Paul, fiercely, “before the men from James came here, you ate with Gentiles. But when these men arrive, you refuse. If you are a Jew, and live like a Gentile, why should you force the Gentiles to live like Jews?”

An ironic smile appeared on the faces of many of the guests, and some snickering was heard from the corners of the room. Simon Peter, the simple fisherman, listened and was silent.

He left the banquet hall and went back to the little room the congregation had rented for him near the synagogue. There he wrestled with his shame, and covered his face with his hands.

“Lord,” he prayed, “forgive me if I’ve done wrong. I don’t mean to shame your young congregation of Gentiles. I just want to do your will. Show me your will, lord.”

His tears washed away the torment of his heart and he felt comforted in the bosom of the Father.

22 - The Portent

Sosthenes was a man of dignified appearance, old, with a white beard, and slow. He was learned in the law and widely known for his charitable deeds. He was also the new head of the Jewish synagogue.

One Sabbath morning as the services ended and the people were going into the street, they were met by some who told them of extraordinary statements made by Paul the same morning over in the other synagogue. According to the reports, he not only said that Jesus was Messiah, but that God had relinquished the government of the world into his hands. He was also reported to have said that the Law was not only done away with, but it actually made man sinful, and Jesus was releasing man from that bondage of sin. Finally, he said that it wasn’t the Jews who were heirs of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, but rather the Gentiles. He claimed that the blessing of Abraham was being taken away from the Jews and given to the Gentiles and that they were heirs in spirit.

One of the Jews cried out loudly enough for all to hear, “That’s like a father, seeing his strength failing in his old age, calling in his son and saying, ‘Here son, take these keys to all the granaries and storehouses, and take over their management. I’m too old and can’t do it anymore.’ Is our God old and feeble?

“You know what would happen if he said that Zeus had become old and turned over the government of the world to Apollo, don’t you? There’d be nothing left of him but ashes!”

“Hey, look! Here they come now! Behold the new children of Abraham!”

The services in the synagogue of Justus had ended, and Paul’s congregation was coming out. They were a mixed crowd, including believing Jews, Gentiles, slaves, and even a few prominent citizens. Some of the Jews were from the nearby congregation and some from Rome.

But the most suspicious element in Paul’s congregation was the many Greeks among them. It was commonly known that some of them wanted to drink from the cup of the devil as well as the cup of the Lord. And indeed, as they came out of the synagogue of Justus, they didn’t look like people who were too heavily weighted with the obligations and responsibilities of the new faith. It had come too easily to them. One could see in their eyes, not the humility of the converted, but rather the pride of the heir.

This smugness really rankled the Jews of the old synagogue. They might as well have come right out and said, ‘You Jews bear the yoke of the law in vain! The reward belongs to us!’ It was impossible for the Jews to see anything in them but strangers who had broken into their Father’s house to rob them of their inheritance; an inheritance they had earned through long faithfulness and patient suffering.

When Paul came out with some Roman Christians and with Crispus, the former head of the Jewish synagogue, a clamor of voices was raised among the bystanders.

“You sell your birthright cheaply, for a pot of lentils!”
“Aye, the Gentiles can buy anything from him, as long as he can sell it!”
“Hear us, Crispus! This troublemaker has led you into blasphemy. Do you agree with this?”

The Gentiles in Paul’s congregation began to shout back.

“Yes, yes, we are the Israelites. We are the children of Abraham! We are in Christ! You are all husks. You’re empty shells.”

There was laughter around him as the speaker continued, “You live in the darkness of the law, we live in the light of faith!”

“Children of Abraham!” responded the Jews scornfully. “Go home, uncover the altars of your idols, and sleep with your fathers’ concubines! New children of Israel, indeed!”

The two crowds surged toward one another, and blows would have been exchanged had not Sosthenes come out at that moment and calmed his people down. Paul did the same thing with the Christians, and the clash was averted for the moment.

But only for the moment.

Neither of the two groups would disperse, and the air was charged with anger. The Jews of the old synagogue began to scold their own elder, Sosthenes, for doing nothing to prevent this continuation of blasphemy against the God of Israel.

As the tension continued, someone suddenly cried, “There’s a new Procurator in the city! I hear he’s wise and just. Let’s take Paul to him, and let him decide if it’s OK for a Jew to preach against the Law of Moses, and keep his own people from serving the God of their fathers.”

Sosthenes, the man of peace, did everything in his power to reason with his people. He reminded them that it would be blasphemy to disturb the peace on the Sabbath day. Let them put off the dispute to another day. But neither the Jews nor the Christians dispersed, and the former kept up their demand that Sosthenes do something.

“Why must he have his house of prayer so close to ours?” shouted one. “Why must he provoke us and make our blood boil, by preaching his blasphemies where we can hear them? You’re our leader Sosthenes. It’s up to you to do something.”

And Sosthenes, unable to withstand the pressure, turned to Paul, and said, “You’re the apostle to the Gentiles, right? So why not go to the Gentiles, Paul? Why do you come to disturb the peace of our household?”

“But did Christ come for Gentiles alone? Did he not also come for the forlorn children of Israel? Yes, Israel first, and then the Greeks. And I’ve come to make one out of the two, to throw down the barrier between Greek and Jew in the faith of Christ.”

“But is that part of the Torah? Do you have the authority of the Sanhedrin?”

“I have the authority of Christ,” said Paul.

“An Israelite who rebels against the Torah! To the procurator with him!”

And suddenly the two groups mixed in conflict. Hands were lifted and blows were exchanged. Jews and Gentiles confronted each other rocking and swaying this way and that. Moments later, Paul was lifted up and carried off. The heads of the two synagogues, wedged into the mob, were forced to accompany the wild procession as it swarmed through the streets to the marketplace across from the house of the new procurator, Gallio, where he was holding public judgment before the great portico.


Junius Gallio was a man who had a spirit of justice. He was an educated son of an educated father and a brother of the great philosopher, Seneca. Gallio was a statesman, dramatist and rhetorician. Something of his high character and many achievements was evident in his appearance and his bearing, as he sat before the portico that morning. The might of Rome was personified in his massive head, his high forehead, his eagle’s nose, and his cold blue eyes. No muscle moved on his long, heavy face, no glimmer of interest lit up his eyes, as he listened to the cases brought before him.

He listened to the complaint of the Jews with the same impassive remoteness. The head of the synagogue spoke, followed by various witnesses, charging that Paul persuades the people against serving God according to the Torah. The Jews bored Gallio, the Roman, the man of logic, the man of might. He was wearied by their superstitious ways, which, to his regret, was spreading far and wide in Achaia. Paul watched him closely. He admired Roman statesmen and had a special longing to bring them into the fold. He thought this was an excellent opportunity to preach the gospel to one of the great. But when he opened his mouth to speak, Gallio cut him off with a gesture.

Without looking at the Jews or at Paul, he said, “If this matter were one involving an injustice or a crime, I would listen to you. But since it only concerns words of your law, take care of it yourselves. We shall not judge of such matters.”

Having thus delivered himself with great dignity, Gallio signaled the officers to drive the Jews, the Christians, and Paul from before the judgment seat.


O wise and just Gallio, was it wise and just for you to have acted this way? For what happens after your little speech? What is the meaning of the cries of triumph and the shrieks of outrage and pain?

Gallio the dignitary unbends just enough to cast a glance at the scene beyond the pillars by the portico. The Greek Christians, jubilant at the verdict issued by the just and noble Gallio, have just grabbed old Sosthenes by the hair, torn off his clothes, and are beating him about the head and body – right in the very presence of the seat of justice. Where is your wisdom and honor, O Gallio? You could put a stop to this horror with one word. But the word is never spoken.

The chronicler tells us “Then all the Greeks took Sosthenes, the chief ruler of the synagogue, and beat him before the judgment seat. And Gallio cared for none of these things.”

Not only didn’t he care, but a close look would have seen that the steely eyes under the heavy brows flickered for a moment, as if amused. For indeed it was amusing that these Jews, and Gallio included Christian Greeks in their number, should draw daggers over the empty, foolish “words” of their law, and should stain the gray head of Sosthenes with his own blood because of those words. Did you think, at that moment, O Gallio, of the noble words of your brother, the great Seneca? “A holy spirit dwells in us, observes our good and evil deeds, and keeps watch over them. Even as we deal, so shall we be dealt with. No man is good without God.”


The Jews lifted up the bloodstained body of Sosthenes from the polished marble stones, wrapped him in a white sheet and carried him home. Paul, stricken in heart, felt like Moses must have felt when he came down from Sinai with the tablets of the Law, and saw the Jews dancing around the golden calf. He’d just seen all his work lost and destroyed. He didn’t join the parade of the triumphant Gentiles; he felt that his place was by the side of the beaten Jew. Of course, as he followed along, they reproached him and held him responsible for the crime. He kept his head sunk and didn’t answer.

Paul wasn’t alone, though. Crispus, white with shame over what was done to the man who had succeeded him as head of the synagogue, came along, as did Stephanas, Aquila and Priscilla and other Jewish Christians from Rome. They cried aloud and begged forgiveness for the Gentiles “who know not what they do.”

When they reached the house, the others pushed them out, crying, “See there. That’s how Christians behave!”

“These are the people you gave our inheritance to?”

Paul heard and didn’t answer. How could he, when his Messiah was being blasphemed by the acts of his own followers?


That evening Paul sat on the floor in Priscilla’s house in mourning. His head hung on his chest and he refused to be comforted. After awhile, his friends stopped trying and everyone sat in stony silence.

Paul had that burning sensation he often felt when things looked darkest, like a thorn thrust into his body. His eyes and lips felt like stones that would never open again. Timothy sat next to him silently, having given up his efforts to comfort him. Stephanas and Crispus stood by helplessly. When the silence had lasted a long time, it was Priscilla who dared to speak. She refused to see the congregation ruined because of the folly and wickedness of a few Greek Christians.

She spoke up, half in anger, and said, “Let’s see, after all, what has happened here. The people who did this are just human. Just yesterday they were idol worshippers, steeped in the lusts and passions of the gods. Can we expect them to overcome their nature so easily? Paul, you yourself said that children must be fed with milk. If you teach them, they will be ashamed of what they’ve done.”

But Paul didn’t answer. He had no word even for Priscilla, the mother of the congregation. His eyes were locked, as though turned inward. He was brooding. Did he see this perhaps as a portent of events to come to make his blood run cold? For when he finally opened his eyes, he looked from face to face, as though seeking the answer to a dreadful question.

When he came to Timothy and read the infinite love and devotion on his face, it was like he’d found what he was looking for, a hope for the future. He suddenly brightened, got up and said, “Come, Timothy, light the way for me.”

They looked at Paul in astonishment. But before they could ask him “Where?” Paul himself answered, “That which has defiled the name of Christ shall be made to sanctify him. Come, lead me to the house of the head of the synagogue, Sosthenes.”

“Sosthenes?”

“Is anything impossible to God?” said Paul, speaking more to himself than to those around him.

He came into Sosthenes’ house and approached the bed where the old man lay, bandaged and breathing hard. Paul bowed down three times and said, “I’ve come to ask your forgiveness of the lord, inasmuch as the sins of the followers of the lord have made him responsible before you. Therefore for him, and in his name, I ask your forgiveness.”

“Of what lord do you speak? I know only one Lord, and he is the Lord of the world,” answered Sosthenes.

“The Lord of the world is your Lord and my Lord also, and the lord Messiah is His holy servant. And for the servant of God, who is the lord of all us that are human, I have come to ask forgiveness.”

“What have I to do with your lord?” asked Sosthenes.

“He is also your lord. Because of the suffering you endured in his name, you’ve been baptized with his baptism, not with water, but with blood. The blows you received are the nails that were driven into the living body of the lord. You’re nearer to him than any of us. You’re the first in Israel to suffer at the hands of Gentiles who claim to speak for Christ. I’m telling you they’ve blasphemed his name and have crucified him again. Gentile baptism has been shamed and brought to nothing. Because of what they did to you, the blood of the lord has been shed in vain. And you must help the Gentiles to find their way back to the lord.”

“Why should I help those who caused this suffering?” asked Sosthenes.

“Suffering is our portion, brother Sosthenes, and we suffer daily for His Name’s sake. Our flesh is wounded every day by the thorns that grow in their wild Gentile natures. And we must help them to free themselves from their abominations, and to enter under the wings of the glory of God through faith in Messiah. This is the grace God has given us. We must return love for the blows they rain on us. We’re the light of the world and it’s our duty to lead the Gentiles out of the darkness. Salvation isn’t just for a single people. God created all men of one blood. Messiah came for all, and we who are nearest to him in the flesh must help him bring the world to the throne of the Lord of the world.”

“But how?” asked Sosthenes. “By creating a division between God and Messiah?”

“God forbid! There is no division between God and Messiah. There is but one God of Israel and one intermediary between God and man, and that is the man, Jesus the Messiah!” answered Paul firmly.

“And what law do you teach? Are these the ways of the Jewish Messiah?”

“My brother Sosthenes, know that whatever I do I do for the sake of heaven. And in order to bring the Gentiles into the grace of God, they must first be made obedient to Messiah. And when all are obedient to him, then the Son, who is obedient to the Father, will make them all obedient to Him.”

“And what do you want from me?” asked Sosthenes. “What should I do?”

“I ask you to help strengthen the Gentiles in the faith in the one living God of Israel through Messiah.”

Sosthenes didn’t answer. He needed time for reflection.

* * * * *

The next Sabbath Paul stood before the congregation of Christians, Jews, and Greeks and talked about the unhappy incident before the judgment seat of Gallio in a voice that trembled with pain.

“Don’t you know that you are the tabernacle of God, and that the spirit of God rests on you? If one tears down God’s tabernacle, God will tear him down. And don’t you know,” he said, his voice becoming stronger, “that your limbs belong to God, and that they are the instruments of Christ? Did Christ prove his words by beating those who opposed him, or did he do it through love and patience and forgiveness?”

As Paul continued to speak, the people’s heads sank lower and lower, and weeping was heard. Hands were lifted up asking forgiveness.

Suddenly Sosthenes appeared and stood by Paul’s side. The people stared at the bandage-covered head of the old man with astonishment. In a weak uncertain voice, they heard him say, “Be comforted, my brothers, be comforted. Let us pray to God our Father, that He forgive us our sins as we forgive them one another.”

And when each man in his heart had repeated the short prayer, Sosthenes raised his hands, saying, “Peace be with you, my brothers.”

And with that he left and returned to his own synagogue to finish his prayers.

From that time on no more dissension was heard between the two congregations. And some years later, in his letter to the Corinthians, Paul writes, “Through the will of God and Sosthenes our brother.” Sosthenes became such an important figure in the eyes of the Christians that Paul considered it necessary to mention his name when he wrote his severe criticisms to the Corinthians.

21 - Unto These Least

East and west met on the shores of the little peninsula of Corinth, sustained on one side by the Aegean Sea and on the other by the Adriatic. In ancient times, the peninsula was called “The Bridge of the Seas”, for ships that brought the wealth of the East to Rome passed through Corinth. A canal was cut in the narrow strip of land that connected Corinth to the mother land, Achaia, which not only shortened the trip for ships, but avoided stormy weather as well. The port of Cenchrea covered the eastern end of the canal, and the port of Leukas the western, as the outlet to the Adriatic Sea.

Corinth was famous for her bronze foundries. The Corinthians possessed a secret formula for mixing Cyprian copper with gold and silver, producing various alloys in perfect proportions. The appearance of the finished products suggested great age, while at the same time acquiring a peculiar bell-like timber. Corinthian bronze was valued above all other metals in the ancient world, including gold.

Temples boasted that their gods and goddesses were fashioned from Corinthian bronze. Even the famous gates of the Jewish Temple were made of it. Bronze products were sold in the markets of Rome and Alexandria and were even transported into the mountain cities of Galatia. Roman patricians and provincial aristocrats took special pride in serving their guests in vessels of hammered Corinthian bronze.

The yellow copper ore came by ship from Cyprus into the port of Cenchrea where lines of slaves carried it onto the docks. Other slaves dragged huge tree trunks from the decks, cedars of Lebanon to be used as fuel for the ovens. It had been discovered that only cedar from Lebanon produced the right degree of heat to smelt the metals.

Still other slaves, pack-carriers, took the ore and lumber to the smelting ovens, which were in deep caverns hollowed out in the rocks. After the copper was melted down, the oven slaves dipped long-handled ladles into the boilers of molten copper and carried the fiery liquid to another set of boilers, where the skilled masters of the foundry mixed the metals in the proper proportions.

The bronze was cooled in many forms, vases, dishes, trays, or even gates and images of gods and goddesses. Then it was passed on to the cleaners and hammerers, who worked in the open air, by the seashore, or in the fields, under awnings of branches.

Besides their special appearance, the tone emitted by objects of Corinthian bronze was expected to be unique, too. Privileged slaves, with a fine eye for lines and a sensitive ear for musical sounds, supervised the hammering and cleaning of the metal. They examined the finished product for both appearance and tone.

When the statues and images, the bowls and vases were finished and passed testing, shining with the subtle color of their proper finish and ringing with the proper tone, they were carried by slaves to the port of Leukas at the other end of Corinth. There they were loaded on ships to be carried to every corner of the empire.

Thus a multitudinous chain of slaves connected the eastern and western seas across the peninsula.


The lives of most of these slaves were considered of little worth. The pack-carriers were considered the lowest form of human merchandise and were unskilled in any trade. They had only their brute strength to offer. They were fed according to their production, and when their strength failed, or they fell sick, they were simply thrown out, to be eaten by the beasts of the field and the carrion birds.

The oven slaves lived right by the ovens and never saw the light of day. Their food was let down at the end of a rope. They were not human beings, but moles, leading a subterranean life. They were trained in this special skill from earliest childhood, for only those who were long accustomed to it could endure the heat of the furnaces. They learned to endure the eternal heat of the caverns, to work and move in the midst of a furnace, and to breathe the fiery air. Their blood became a fiery liquid, and their limbs were the rods and pistons of a dead mechanism. A hot vapor clung to their bodies, which were pitted and marked with countless scars from the unceasing torrent of metal sparks. They looked less like slaves than like legendary wild demons.

The life of these cave-workers was short. When one of them died, his body was simply tossed into the flames. The ovens kept their jaws open, like some Moloch, swallowing generation after generation of the young.

The skilled masters who mixed the metals were held in greater esteem, for it required knowledge of the craft as well as keen judgment. So the craftsmen weren’t treated like the oven slaves. Their food was better, and their quarters more comfortable. However they were also watched more closely precisely because of their skill. The loss of such a slave would be a serious matter, for they might give away the secret of the craft to an outsider. Therefore, though their beds were comfortable, the mixers were chained to them and they were also never allowed to leave the caverns.

The rows of hammerers were generally made up of women and young children. Seated on the ground, a wooden block between their feet, they hammered and filed at the raw edges left on the images and vessels by the molds. As the overseers walked around, they would stop now and then to use the whip on the withered breast of some poor mother or on the thin face of a sleepy child as a way of “correcting” their mistakes.

Most of the children taken into this work had some sickness, or physical defect that kept them from being useful as house servants or prostitutes. These unfortunate discards of humanity were the dregs of the slave markets. Their buyers regarded them as inferior animals, and the bronze works of Corinth were full of them. Their youthful, tender hands were best fitted for the delicate, ceaseless hammering that reduced the metal to the needed consistency. But besides hammering and filing, the children also cleaned and polished the bronze. In fact, the polishing stalls were almost exclusively occupied by children. These wretched youngsters lived where they worked. At night their bodies collapsed in the stalls where they worked all day. In the morning the overseers woke them with the lash. They were given barely enough time to eat a flat cake of oat bread and a measure of water before they resumed the ceaseless labor that was their life.

Blindness occurred quite frequently among the child slaves, what with the dust from their files flying everywhere, and blind children were quite useless. When a child became blind, it was simply flung aside and driven away. Often a mother would see her child unchained and pushed out of the line, to crawl away like a beast into the heaps of filth, slag, ashes, and garbage that lay around the works. But if she tried to rise from her seat, a lash from the metal loaded whip reminded her where she was.

The mating of slaves was greatly encouraged, and the birth rate among them was high. But this fruitfulness did not yield good stock. Defective children were therefore the rule. They were bought and sold in lots. They perished and were easily replaced. It didn’t pay the bronze masters to treat their human cattle any better than they did. It was cheaper to squeeze their last energies out of them and buy a fresh stock.

* * * * *

When Paul baptized the household of the wealthy Stephanas, one of the servants in that household was a freed slave by the name of Portinaius. This man was originally brought in a shipment of slaves from Galatia after the suppression of a local rebellion. He was a Greek scholar, skilled in oratory, and had a pleasant voice Stephanas recognized his merits and abilities early, gave him a post of responsibility in his business, and used him as a reader.

Not long afterwards the master gave Portinaius his freedom. Not that this meant a whole lot. He did have privileges denied the slaves, but he was still considered Stephanas’ property. The owner always kept the power to revoke his manumission, and he still had no will or opinion of his own. Thus, when Paul baptized Stephanas, Portinaius was also baptized, whether he wanted to be or not.

Nevertheless, Portinaius was a man given to careful meditation, and he listened with honest attention and receptive readiness to Paul’s sermons in the synagogue of Justus, as well as to his speeches at the common meals. As a Greek, he was naturally repelled by the Jewish way of life, with its fascination with an unseen God. But he pondered what he heard long and closely. He began to understand that the Jewish God was not a product of man’s intelligence like the Greek gods were. The latter could only help man to the extent that man could help himself within the limits of his destiny. But the Jewish God was beyond all wisdom, power and weakness. He broke the chains of destiny and liberated man from the animal bond with nature, and in this activity He directed the course of man’s life.

Slowly but surely Portinaius grew into the Christian faith. He saw that salvation was not just for the great and mighty, who needed the protection of the gods in order to maintain their power, but He was also the salvation of the weak whose hopes had been extinguished and who were rejected and abandoned by the gods. Portinaius thought of those forlorn human beings who were condemned to the fiery darkness of the bronze works. Certainly they’d been abandoned by the gods and utterly rejected. Now there was one who was ready to accept them and take them under his wing, one who had suffered in his own flesh what they suffered every day, who had died the death of a slave. And yet he was the Son of God. He was ready to bring them into the Kingdom of God, where they would be seated around him and his heavenly throne.

As Portinaius read the Psalm to his master one day, he was suddenly filled with longing to bring the gospel to those who lived in “the valley of the shadow of death,” the slaves in the bronze foundries.


A very high and seemingly unbreakable wall separated the outside world from the world of the furnace slaves. But there is always some channel of communication to the outside world, secret exchanges of information. And in spite of the vigilance of the guards Portinaius was able to smuggle two slaves out of the caverns and to bring them to the synagogue of Justus so that they might hear the gospel from Paul.

It was on a Sabbath morning and the slave Lucius stood in the synagogue among the worshippers and listened to Paul’s sermon. Lucius was also a native of Galatia. He was now half blind and his body was thickly covered with the scars and pits of the metal sparks. And though he wasn’t yet forty, his face was old and wrinkled, and his flesh was withered on his pointed bones. Bent in half and clutching his meager garment of sackcloth, he listened to Paul’s words.

“When our earthly home is destroyed, we will yet have the house of God, which was not made with human hands, and which is eternal in the heavens.”

Lucius understood that in that house all were equal. There were no slaves and lords. He sighed and longed for the house of God. He thought of the peace and rest he would find in it, for he was weary with labor, and he hungered for rest.

No matter how eaten by the heat and charred by the sparks, his body could rise from the grave in glory and beauty. Though he lived in utter ignorance and blindness, in sin and uncleanness, he could rise with the resurrection and find a corner reserved for him in the house of God. Like one who struggles in a stormy sea, the prematurely aged slave caught at the rope of salvation thrown to him before the shadows of death closed on him.

Portinaius led Lucius to Timothy, who baptized him in the name of Jesus Christ.

That Sabbath evening Lucius the slave was admitted to the common feast in the synagogue. The small lamps burned modestly and Lucius shrank back against the wall so as not to be observed. But Priscilla saw his fear, went to him, and with her motherly hand drew him closer to the table where the apostle was breaking bread.

“I’m a slave,” said Lucius, trembling. “Will the lord Christ inhabit this body?”

“We are all free in the lord. We have all become children of God through him.”

Paul took the flat cakes of unleavened bread and broke them. He gave a piece to Stephanus and a piece to Lucius. Then he took up the beaker of wine, and had each of them, master and slave, drink it. And he said to both of them, “Take, eat and drink. This is my body, which I have broken for you.”

And when Paul gave Lucius the kiss of peace, Lucius felt that he was part of the body of Christ.

Word spread quickly in the underground world of bronze foundries about this offer of redemption. The story was repeated often about the Man-God who stood on the threshold of God’s house inviting all to come in. They heard the whole story of the life, sufferings, and death of this Man-God and how he would receive them, wipe away their tears, and comfort them for their sufferings.

* * * * *

A woman sat with her children among the polishers and hammerers. She was working on a vase on her knees, bringing out the special luster of the Corinthian bronze. It was thought that the oils of a women’s body softened the color of the bronze. The vase the woman was polishing with her flesh was a particularly precious work of art. It had the form of a young girl’s body, supple and curved, with a long slender neck, and was intended for one of the richest customers of the bronze-master.

A child sat near the woman, perhaps six years old. But the child’s face was scarcely human, for it was covered with sores. Heavy blisters covered her eyes so that she could hardly see. She held a bronze cup in her bony little hands, part of the set that belonged to the vase, and with her last remnants of strength, was trying to imitate her mother in polishing it against her hips. But there was neither warmth nor softness in the child’s body. All that could be seen was a yellowish matter mixed with blood, which stained the cup’s surface. An overseer saw this and passed word to one of the whip carrying slaves. A brutal hand was laid on the child. When the mother half rose, she was immediately flung back by the flick of the lash. With a choked cry, she turned to the woman at the next block.

“Tell me quickly, what is his name, the one who waits on the other side, the one Lucius told us about. Quick, his name!”

“Jesus Christ.”

“Jesus Christ, please take my child to you.”