01 - Out of Strength Comes Forth Sweetness

Whenever a Roman soldier returned from a distant frontier, there was nothing he looked forward to more than to scalding and steaming his body in the splendidly appointed baths constructed by Agrippa especially for the guards, overseers and soldiers around Caesar on the Campus Martius near the Parthenon. There were other baths sprinkled throughout the city, of course, for next to bread and circuses the Roman populace loved its steam baths most. The rich had their private thermal chambers, while the poor received a regular distribution of metal checks or tickets that admitted them to the public baths. Even slaves had similar institutions.

After surrendering his prisoners to the local guards, Julius went off to the thermal baths of his barracks.

Such a visit could take the better part of the day, for these were not simply bathhouses. There were hot and cold basins, steam rooms, and rubbing rooms where the attendant used a bronze currycomb to set the blood in circulation. There were also game rooms and dining rooms where the bathers assembled to eat, drink and gossip.

After his body was thoroughly steamed, rubbed, and anointed, Julius went to lie down on a couch. A number of legionaries lay nearby, members of the Praetorian Guard. They were talking about the strange lot of prisoners that had just arrived from Judea.

“By Jupiter!” said Eubulus, a broad-boned, mighty figure of a man, a Macedonian member of the Palace Guard. “I hear these men won’t touch anything but the nuts and figs they brought with them. They won’t taste any of our bread, wine, or meat. They spend all their time singing or muttering prayers to their gods. I also heard that most of them are priests from their Temple in Jerusalem.”

Eubulus was of the Ninth Legion, which had just returned from an expedition sent to repress an uprising in Britain. His cohort had distinguished itself in the campaign, and had been transferred to the Praetorian Guard, stationed near Caesar’s palace, as a reward.

“The Jews are a queer people,” interjected a Galatian legionary. “They worship a god no one’s ever seen. When I was in charge of some of them, they kept me awake all night bawling hymns. Not even the lash stops them. You’d think they were freely worshiping in their own Temple rather than being prisoners.

“You know they built their God a Temple of pure gold, and he won’t even let them put his image in it.”

“It’s not just that, they won’t let anyone bring Caesar’s image in there either. I was in a detachment bringing Caesar’s statue to them. They threw themselves down in front of us and would have let themselves be killed before they’d let us through. Some of them even were killed. When Petronius saw he’d have to kill them all, he backed off.”

This came from Old Gabelus, who had served in Judea under Petronius.

“So how does their God reward them for all this? Are they rich or powerful?” someone asked.

“They’re the poorest of the poor, the weakest of the weak,” answered Gabelus. “Their God treats them like slaves. I never knew anyone more feeble or helpless. Everyone spits on them. Surely you’ve seen our actors lampoon them in the circus.”

“So why do they cling to this God of theirs?”

“Because they believe that they will be rewarded in another world for their devotion,” said Julius. “This world means nothing to them. This life is just a trial of suffering and humiliation, so they can be with their God in heaven in a second life.”

“And who are you, brother, that you know the mysteries of the Jews so well?” asked Gabelus.

“My name is Julius. I just got back from Judea with that batch of prisoners.”

“Julius of the Augustan Legion?” asked Gabelus, enthusiastically. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. You say you just got back.”

“Just today. There was a prisoner of some importance, too, Paul by name.”

“Oh, I’ve heard of him,” said Eubulus. “In Philippi many people have converted to the Jewish faith. And it’s true. They sacrifice everything for the sake of the next life.”

“You can talk to him if you want to know more,” said Julius. “I delivered him to Caesar today. He’s a marvelous man. He filled my mind with thoughts of his God.”

“Is he a priest in the Jerusalem Temple?”

“That I don’t know. But he is Jewish, like the priests,” answered Julius.

“One of your soldiers says he saved your men from shipwreck,” said someone, curiously. “Is that true?”

“Yes, it’s true. I don’t know who or what he is, but there’s a demon or spirit in him, that’s for sure. He’s definitely in communion with the gods. He told us that only the ship would be lost, but not a hair of our heads would be touched. And that’s just what happened. We’d all given up hope in the storm. He was the only one who remained calm. I don’t know what would have happened to us if it weren’t for him. And he says it was his God that saved us all through him. Of that I’m sure.”

And Julius added, “But that’s nothing! You should see the miracles he performs by the power of his God. I saw him myself heal a dying man with nothing more than a look. I also saw a viper wind itself around his arm and he just grabbed it with his other hand, tore it loose and threw it into the fire. Like I said he’s got a demon in him for sure.

“Oh, a magician, then!”

“I don’t know where he gets his power, but he gets it from somewhere.”

“So why is he here? What crimes has he committed?”

“It’s about their faith. Agrippa, the Jewish king, heard the man plead his cause, and said the man hadn’t committed any crime. He would’ve set him free, but the man appealed to Caesar. Did I mention he’s a Roman citizen?”

“A Roman citizen!” exclaimed several legionaries at the same time.

“By birth, no less. His confinement in Caesarea was honorable. Festus gave him some liberty, and I was told to be considerate to him. Let me add that he was an honest prisoner. He behaved loyally. Not once did he give me any trouble,” said Julius.

* * * * *

That evening Paul was placed in the custody of Eubulus. He was exhausted after the long, perilous journey. His endurance was not what it used to be. Eubulus, impressed by Julius’ report, didn’t insist on chaining himself to Paul. So Paul was alone in his cell. Here in Rome, his companions from the journey were not allowed to visit, but they didn’t go far. They walked back and forth outside the walls of the Praetorium.

For the first day of his confinement Paul ate nothing, since the food offered was unclean. He was also too exhausted to pay much attention to his new guard. He slept through the first and second nights, and it wasn’t until he awoke the third morning that it dawned on him that his hand was not chained to a keeper. He wasn’t even chained to the wall. A legionary sat in another corner of the cell, his massive head sunk in meditation.

“Friend,” asked Paul, “are you my guard?”
“Yes, prisoner.”
“What is your name, legionary?”
“Eubulus.”
“Eubulus. A fine name. Do you speak Greek?”
“From birth.”
“Where were you born, my friend?”
“Philippi, in Macedonia.”

“Philippi,” exclaimed Paul, obviously pleased. “A fine city, and a famous one. Do you know Lydia, the seller of purple?”

“Who doesn’t? I’ve been away from Philippi for a long time, fighting in Gaul and Britain. But I still remember Lydia. She had a good name among us when I was a boy.”

“She is my sister,” cried Paul.

“Your sister!” cried the astounded legionary. “You were born in Philippi?”

“No, I’m a Jew from Tarsus, in Cilicia. And yet Lydia is my sister. For we who believe in the one living God are bound, as brothers and sisters, in the faith, through the savior God sent for all of us, Jesus Christ.”

“What do you mean?” asked Eubulus. “You have a father and mother as I do, do you not?”

“You speak of our earthly life. In our heavenly life we’ve neither father nor mother, sister nor brother. But all who believe in Christ are of one family, brothers and sisters through his blood. He’s given us heavenly life, and we are born into the faith.”

“Who was this Christ you’re talking about?”

“Not was, but is. He is here with us, even though you don’t see him. You may not be of my faith, but you’re already no stranger to me. Your goodness makes you my brother.”

“You must tell me more of this later. But I see you haven’t touched your food. I know that you Jews won’t eat food prepared by someone of another faith. We do have three of your priests here in the Praetorium. I’ll have some of their fruit sent to you.”

“It’s true I don’t eat the bread of strangers,” admitted Paul, “but I share the bread I have with my brother. And what is pure for my brother is pure for me too. For all is pure that comes from the pure. Come, brother Eubulus, we will break our fast together.”

Paul sat down next to his keeper, and they divided the bread and olives and water mixed with sour wine between them.

While they ate, Eubulus said, “There’s a friend of mine here among the legionaries, an old soldier, Gabelus. He was stationed in the land of the Jews since the days of Caligula. He told me that the Jews wouldn’t allow the image of Caesar into their Temple and refused to worship him as a god.”

“To Caesar we render the things that are Caesar’s, and to God the things that are God’s. God alone is divine, and we worship only Him. Caesar we serve.”

Eubulus was silent as he meditated on the distinction.

After a while he said, “Hear me, stranger. I’ve been told you’re an intimate of the gods, and I’d like for you to do something for me. I fought in Britain with an old friend, Aurusus Sevantus. The Britons surrounded us in the battle, and rained spears on us. I was wounded and Sevantus pulled the spear out of me and bound up my wound. There was a second attack and we stood back to back with our shields in front of us. Then the enemy gathered to one side, and Sevantus placed himself in front of me and took a spear through his chest. I would have given my life for him, but when the retreat sounded he was dead, so I left him there.

“Could you pray to your God that he take Aurusus Sevantus to him in heaven, together with the believers? You’re a pious man, and I’ve heard your God holds you in great regard. Pray to him for my friend Aurusus Sevantus.”

“O, good Eubulus! You’ve already prayed to my God the best of all prayers, the prayer of devotion and friendship. I know that my God, who sees the secret thoughts of all men, has heard your prayer, even before you said it.”

“What? He would listen to me, a stranger?”

“Because of your love, you are not a stranger to my God. You’re as close to Him as I am. For all of us are one blood in His sight.”

Eubulus was confused. The apostle’s words were meaningless, for he couldn’t understand a faith that reached out to strangers and made them brothers of the believers.

So he asked, “And those who don’t know each other are brothers and sisters?”

“Anyone, whether of my flesh and blood or not, whether I know him or not, no matter where he is, if he believes in Jesus Christ we are bound in brotherhood.”

“Even if you’re a free man, and he’s a slave?” persisted Eubulus.

“Among us who believe in our lord, there are no free men and no slaves, for we are all free in God. We belong to each other.”

“No, no, these are things impossible to understand,” said Eubulus, bewildered. “I’ve never heard of such a thing. You expect me to believe that I, a soldier of the Ninth Legion, am the brother of the wild, barbarous, fiery-haired Britons who rebelled against Rome, and who we brought captive here to become beasts of burden? Such a man is my brother? Or the German, or the black African slave? Only Romans are brothers, for we worship the same Caesar and the same gods.”

“But isn’t the wild, barbarous red-haired Briton made of the same flesh as you? When you plunged your spear into him, didn’t he bleed? When you took away his wife and children, didn’t you see pain written on his face? The wild Briton, the German, the African are all as you are now, ignorant in the knowledge of God. But bring them this knowledge, that one God made all of us and that God sent His savior on earth to redeem us all through his suffering, and in that instant they become our brothers in the faith.”

Eubulus shook his head. “You say, then, that all who believe in God become members of one family, brothers and sisters, even though they don’t have the same father and mother, even if they’re of different races, born in different lands, is that it?”

“It is so, my son.”

“Hear me then. I have friends here, old Gabelus, who I mentioned, and Lucius and Sadonius. I’ll bring them to you and have you talk to them like you did to me, so that we all may become brothers in your God. Will you do this?”

“Bring them this evening, and any one else of your comrades.”

Eubulus was strangely moved. He didn’t know what to say.

After a while he said, “What would you have me do for you?”

“You’ve already done the greatest thing one brother can do for another. The Lord has comforted me because of you. But if you would like to do something for me, there are friends of mine walking back and forth outside the gates. You’ll know them easily enough. One’s a short man, yellow beard, big eyes. Tell them, ‘Out of strength comes forth sweetness, and out of the mouth of the lion the voice of God.’”


That night Eubulus brought his friends into Paul’s cell. Like him they were all part of the Praetorian Guard as a reward for long years of service as soldiers. He, Gabelus, Lucius, and Sadonius had campaigned in many lands, and borne themselves valiantly.

Paul could their read faces by the weak light of the oil lamp in his cell. Gabelus was earnest. His cropped hair stood up like bristles, his beard was gray, his back, neck and shoulders were scarred. His eyes were brown. Lucius, much younger than he, was no less earnest, but his blue eyes were fresh and lively, and his lips were sensitive. Sadonius, who held himself more in the shadow, seemed to be a silent, thoughtful man.

First Paul asked each man where he came from. He was familiar with all the provinces and cities they mentioned.

And he praised their military records too. He praised their faithfulness, their courage, and their devotion to Caesar.

“When our lord was here, he said, ‘Render to Caesar the things that are Caesar’s.’”

And he assured them that there was a reward for faithfulness.

“But Caesar is not a god. He’s a man, just like we are. There is only one God in heaven, and He first made a covenant with the Jewish people. Then He had compassion on all men, and sent His son down in the likeness of a man and made a covenant with all men through him.”

Then he told them of Jesus Christ, how he’d lived on earth and taught men to live in truth and honesty, to love one another, and to help each other in the hour of need. All men, he said, were soldiers of Christ.

“We are comrades, and we must not hate each other, but rather share our bread with each other. We must even forgive our enemies who’ve sinned against us, and we must pray to God to turn their hearts to goodness. Christ set the example for all of us, for though he was the Son of God and had power, he let himself be bound like a sheep, and he died in torment on the cross so that we might be purified through his suffering.

“Then he rose from the dead and was seen by hundreds of people. He also showed himself to me, and sent me to take his gospel to the world. This Jesus will come down from heaven in the near future, and he’ll sit on the throne to judge all men. The dead, too, will be raised, for those who believe in him are not really dead, but alive in Christ and are with him in heaven. And then will begin the life of righteousness on earth.

The soldiers listened in silence. Gabelus in particular had been thinking about the foundations on which his life had been built. He’d been a faithful servant to Caesar since the day he took his oath. He’d submitted proudly and readily to the disciplines and hardships of his calling, the endless marches, the climbing of mountains, the wading through swamps, the struggles with men and beasts. He had many scars to prove it. He helped to put down rebellions among the Gauls, Germans and Britons. For him Caesar was god, and to him and to Rome he had given his life. When his time came, Charon would find the coin placed in his mouth to pay his fare across the Styx to the cypress-covered Elysian fields. There the old soldier would meet his Emperor, Claudius, and would enter his service once more.

But now he had doubts. He’d witnessed the obstinate devotion of the Jews when they refused to admit Caesar’s image, and he could never forget that they were the only ones who understood that mad Caligula had been no god, but had been a disgrace to mankind.

It was the same with the new emperor, Nero. Gabelus himself had helped raise Nero to the purple after Claudius’ death. But now it was known that Nero had had him poisoned. After that he killed his own mother, the daughter of the beloved general, Germanicus. The whole Praetorium had shuddered at that incredible crime. But that was just the beginning! One faithful general after another was executed. Nero rejected the gentle Octavia, of the noble line of Augustus, and took a slave woman to his side, and after her a vicious harlot. Gabelus had been horrified to learn of Octavia’s death.

Now there wasn’t a single Roman citizen who could be certain that he wasn’t on the black list. A Caesar who liked to disguise himself at night like a robber captain, and lead a band of ruffians to attack his own citizens! A Caesar who was not ashamed to wrestle with gladiators in the arena! A Caesar who surrounded himself with flutists and guitarists, and recited his own poetry in the palaces and circuses like a cheap actor! What had become of the reign of law and order that was the pride of Rome? Where was the justice and honesty that he, Gabelus, was ready to give up his life for? And how much deity could there be in a Caesar who was known as a beast, a murderer, a matricide?

Suppose this simple Jew is speaking the simple truth? Suppose God alone is divine and the Kingdom of Heaven will be instituted by the new Caesar, Christ, the Son of God? For such a Caesar, immortal and divine, for such a kingdom, eternal and just, a man could give his life. Only such a Caesar could reward the soldier for his faithful service with a second life beyond the Styx.

Ah, what a pity that he came to this notion so late in life, after giving his best years for the old Caesar, and so little was left for the new.

But as if reading his thoughts, Paul answered him, “It’s never too late to come to him. He was with you before you knew him. And before you knew his name, he shed his blood for you, and bore the cross for you, that you might be saved.”

Glory to the new Caesar, thought the old soldier, to Jesus Christ! I swear by my honor as a soldier that from this day on I will be faithful to him, live for him and die for him! For he alone is worthy of the inheritance of the Caesars on earth.

And as old Gabelus was moved to these thoughts, so too were his friends. So when morning came to Paul’s dark cell, the apostle had with him four of Caesar’s soldiers who swore eternal faith to the Caesar of heaven and earth, Jesus Christ.