04 - Ringing of Chains

From the Porta Capena of Rome the Via Appia continued through the countryside, lined on both sides with monuments and mausoleums of the mighty dead. Nymphs and fauns had their homes in the swampy fields and caverns of volcanic stone. Here the Romans heard the singing of sprites and the murmur of gods, and they saw the shadows of demons stealing across the wastes.

It was in this part of Rome that a new Jewish settlement had sprung up.

The reason for building this new quarter was that the Jews didn’t burn their dead like the Romans, but placed them in caskets on natural or hewn-out shelves in caverns. The volcanic stone of the land around the Via Appia was soft making it easy to honeycomb with twisting passages and to cut out shelves in the walls. At the same time these catacombs were strong enough so as not to collapse and bury the tombs.

The Jewish community in the Trans-Tiber was so overcrowded that many Jews had moved away and lived among the Gentiles on the lower slopes of the Viminal Hill near the filthy Suburra. But with the new quarter and a proper burial ground, the Jews moved there, even though it was a bit of a distance from the heart of the city. The settlement developed rapidly and was soon swollen with Jews from every quarter.


The animosity Paul found in Rome from the non-Christian Jews did not surprise him. What did surprise him was the discovery that two Christian parties had formed. Most of the Jewish Christians were under the influence of James, whose word carried as much weight in Rome as it did in all the other Jewish communities of the Diaspora. Even later, when Peter came to Rome, he disdained to greet the apostle to the Gentiles.

So despite the fact that he was a prisoner in his own home, Paul set out to create his own congregation of Christians. He tried to win anyone he came into contact with, including the guards, and he sent out the men who’d come with him to win new believers, as well as the Christians here who’d remained faithful to him from the days of Corinth.

Among his followers Priscilla stood out as his greatest help. As always, she kept watch over him as a mother over her child. She prepared his meals, comforted and strengthened him, and assured him that any day now he’d be brought before Caesar and set free. She organized visits of groups to his home with the help of Timothy and Luke.

Luke was a help to him as a healer, too. The sedentary life forced on Paul had an adverse affect on his health, and Luke did what he could to strengthen him with medicinal herbs and roots.

Paul was especially strengthened by the conversions he saw in Caesar’s household, the soldiers of the Praetorian Guard. Old Gabelus brought to his new God all the military discipline, obedience and devotion he’d once lavished on Caesar. In Priscilla’s household, he found the intimacy and brotherly spirit Paul promised him, and in his gratitude he did his best to widen the circle of the “family.” He sought out men in the cohort that he judged to be most likely to accept the new faith, and he brought them secretly to Paul’s house whenever the guard happened to be one of his own soldiers. He also did what he could to assign men of the right spirit to this special duty, who could be influenced by Paul. When the matter was not in his hands, he recommended men of mild character, and he often slipped in a word of reminder that the prisoner was a Roman citizen, adding that he was a man of influence in high circles.

Before long Gabelus and Eubulus had soldiers in their cohort who were either of the faith or strongly inclined toward it. But these two soldiers were also in and out of the palace talking up the new faith to the cooks, bakers and butlers. Servants of Caesar’s household would steal through the Porta Capena at night to Priscilla’s house where the common feasts were held. Soldiers and slaves exchanged the “kiss of peace.”

But the ten cohorts stationed at the Praetorian barracks were changed daily, so Paul often found himself in the care of a rough, unmanageable soldier. He’d be chained again and had to bear the soldiers’ company for twenty-four hours, accompanying him even when he went to answer the call of nature. Worse, the soldier would drag Paul wherever he went, including the foul public comfort stations, where men and women sat side-by-side, indulging in the grossest and most revolting jests. The soldiers often took special delight in mocking Paul’s Jewishness, imitating his gestures, interfering with his prayers and defiling his food by throwing a piece of pork into it. Occasionally, a soldier of the baser sort would compel the prisoner to witness frightful obscenities, and when Paul would close his eyes and whisper a prayer to God for release from the torment, the soldier would burst into brutal laughter. At night, when Paul’s devotions disturbed the soldier, he’d be elbowed in his side and told to sleep.

These were times he reminded himself over and over that he was an apostle to the Gentiles and that he did not belong to himself. He’d forfeited his privacy to be chained to another, for good and evil, in order that he might bring salvation to that other.

And so Paul discovered a new demonstration of grace and was strengthened.


Paul withheld his message from no one. No matter how cruel and base his keeper, no matter how revolting his conduct, Paul strove mightily to forget his own individuality, and to dedicate himself to understanding the other person in order to find any spark that could be kindled into the flame of faith. He stopped thinking of men as good or bad, believers or unbelievers. He thought of them only as ignorant or enlightened, and the most ignorant could be enlightened if only the proper way could be found. There was not a singe guard whom Paul did not seek to win over to the faith.

Besides soldiers, Paul was able to witness to acquaintances that Luke made in his capacity as a physician. Some of these were scholars, readers, and secretaries. Timothy spoke with strangers in inns, restaurants, and barbershops, and there were many Roman matrons in Priscilla’s circle who could be converted.

And so two Christian communities grew side by side. One was mostly Jewish, with a sprinkling of Gentiles who’d either converted to Judaism or at least kept “the commandments of the sons of Noah,” according to the long ago ruling of James. The other was made up chiefly of servants of Caesar’s household, soldiers of the Praetorium, slaves, and freedmen. They gathered around Priscilla’s house on the Aventine hill.

The river Tiber divided the two communities.

* * * * *

It was early morning in Paul’s house. Loud street noises floated through the “windows,” which were stopped up with sackcloth and other rags because of the chill. Children’s voices in a school on an upper floor could be heard reciting the alphabet, and the sound mixed with the ringing hammer of a nearby smithy. The screams of a quarreling couple nearby competed with Paul’s voice. The smoke from the stove of a sausage maker in the next apartment penetrated into the room, for the walls were full of cracks and the ceilings were faulty.

Paul lay on the bed that was his only piece of furniture. A long chain connected his wrist to that of a hairy, bearded soldier who sat at the window and shouted down to passersby of his acquaintance. This particular guard was a Corsican, whom Paul had met for the first time that morning. He wasn’t of Gabelus’ cohort, and he’d never heard of Paul before, but he was a kindly fellow, and he’d been surprised and softened when Aristarchus offered him a pitcher of new wine. He sat now with the pitcher between his knees. Whenever he lifted his arms to greet someone or to bring the pitcher to his lips, he tugged at Paul. Except for this thoughtless gesture, he didn’t disturb the old man.

Paul was weak and weary, his hands blue and swollen. His face was ashen, his cheeks pendulous, and the tear-sacs below his eyes unnaturally large. Only his thick eyebrows bristled with a strange liveliness above the pale shimmer of his eyes.

Luke stood next to him, ever calm, ever at peace. His black, well-kept beard and hair were streaked with gray. His mantle fell in careful folds around his body. With strong, skillful hands he massaged the flabby skin of his teacher, the face, throat, and chest. He’d also prepared a special drink of fig juice mixed with herbs.

The two were having a lively discussion about Luke’s attempt to write a gospel account of the life and deeds of Christ. They’d been doing this each morning for some time now, Luke reading the few paragraphs he’d written the day before, and Paul asking questions and offering suggestions.

For example, when Luke quoted Christ as commanding his disciples not to go to the Gentiles, or to the cities of the Samaritans, but to the lost sheep of the House of Israel, a startled Paul demanded, “Who put those words into the mouth of the lord?”

When Luke replied that Matthew had written them, Paul responded, “Maybe in another context, but to me the lord said, ‘I will send you to the Gentiles.’ He is the master of all men, and he came to bring redemption to Jew and Gentile alike.”

Another quote Luke had gotten from Matthew said that if you greet only your brothers, how are you better than others? Don’t the Gentiles so? To this Paul said, “That’s just a comparative statement. The Gentiles are not sinners. They’re just unborn children of the faith, and someone not born cannot be a sinner.”

Thus Paul’s influence on Luke’s gospel regarding Israel’s relation to the Gentiles. And to emphasize that Jesus’ mission extended to all mankind, he had Luke carry Jesus’ genealogy back beyond Abraham, where Matthew had ended, to Adam, the first man.

While Paul was busy with this, Timothy came in. The years the young man had spent with Paul in voluntary imprisonment, as well as his concern about the fate of the congregations of Asia Minor, Macedonia, and Achaia, had aged him greatly. His tall, slender figure had acquired a stoop. His face was yellow in the framework of his lustrous, black beard, and many wrinkles had gathered on his forehead. He wanted to write or visit the congregations, maybe take Luke with him.

Paul had sent Titus to the infant congregations, but what was one man? Besides, he didn’t want to burden Paul with his desire, for a messenger would need money for the journey, and he and Paul both knew that the funds of his congregation were low.

As if to confirm his thoughts, Aristarchus and Priscilla appeared together in the doorway with a small pot of grits and honey talking in low voices, and Paul knew why. Priscilla had sold their last bundle of goat’s hair to pay his rent. There was nothing left in her house to sell. Her husband’s looms were idle because they didn’t have the money to buy raw material. The situation was dire. Paul’s congregation was made up of soldiers, slaves and the poorest freedmen, and he suddenly felt that he was a burden to them. If only his hands were free! As old as he was he would sit at the loom again and earn his own bread. But his hands were literally bound. Where would help come from?

But no sooner did that thought enter his mind than he turned from it in shame. Didn’t he believe in the lord Jesus Christ? The lord had reduced him to this condition, and the lord would not turn his life to nothingness. Hadn’t he brought him to Rome, a prisoner in chains, because he intended great things with him?

Suddenly he called Timothy over.

“Titus should be sent to Crete,” he said. “It’s a gross and ignorant people, but there is a field ready for Christ. A strong hand is needed, and Titus is the man for it. It would be well to send Tychicus back to Ephesus, for Ephesus too is important. Many congregations have been founded in that area. You will go there. And you,” – he turned to Priscilla – “you and your husband must give up your house here in Rome and return to Ephesus. We must strengthen the hands of the new congregations.”

“And what of the congregation here?” asked Timothy.

“There is only one congregation and one Christ. The new Gentile believers will have to turn to the other side of the Tiber and become part of the Christian congregation over there, so that the two congregations may be united. Let the barriers between Jew and Gentile be broken down. Let all belong to the single congregation of Christ!”

Priscilla nodded and said, “Just yesterday the new believers met for the first time with the Jewish Christians and exchanged the kiss of peace.”

“How many of them were of Caesar’s household?”

“Thirty-six legionaries, brought by Gabelus and Eubulus, and upward of a score of the servants of Caesar’s household, freedmen and slaves.”

“I bend my knee before the Father of my lord Jesus Christ.”

“But what is to be –“

“Priscilla, my sister. God has spread the seed from Rome to Ephesus. In every city there are congregations, and they will help in the completion of God’s work.”

“And who will look after you in your chains?”

“He who has looked after me all these years. The congregations are more important than I.”

Meanwhile little Aristarchus stood by Paul’s bed holding the pot of grits and honey, and muttering, “Wouldn’t it be better, after all, for the apostle to eat something?”

Paul turned to him, and with his free hand took a few spoonfuls of food, sighing, “Will I be allowed to ever again see the children I’ve won to Christ? If only these hands weren’t chained. I would fly to them.”

“They will be free, they will surely be free. How often have you been in danger, and how often has the Lord rescued you! For the Lord needs you for His work.”

So Aristarchus babbled eagerly, as he held the pot of grits.

“I must give up this hired house, and return to my cell until I’m called before Caesar,” said Paul.

“God forbid!” Aristarchus shouted. “What do you mean by such words?”

“But where will we get the money to pay for these lodgings?”

“We’ll find it somewhere!” answered Aristarchus. “You have more important concerns. The Lord knows our needs. Surely someone will come from one of the congregations. And if no one does, we’ll talk to the Christians. They must remember the words, ‘Don’t muzzle the ox that treads the corn.’”

“No, not from the Gentile believers. They are children of the faith, and children must receive, not give,” said Paul. “Cross the Tiber. Speak with the believers who are our brothers in Israel. They’re grown in the faith, and they carry the burden lovingly.”

“However it happens,” answered Aristarchus, “it’s not for you to worry about. We’ll do what must be done, and God will be with us.”


These words were barely out of his mouth when a stranger appeared at the door, dressed in a Macedonian mantle. The man’s face and robe were covered with dust.

“Is this the house of Paul, the apostle to the Gentiles?”

And looking toward the bed, the man waited for no answer, but came forward and bowed deeply, saying, “Peace to you, my rabbi and my lord! I’ve just arrived from Philippi and I bring greetings from the holy congregation in Jesus Christ. They’ve heard that you are in bonds and wish to send help to you through me. They’ve heard that you are in need, and this is an offering, made in love, from the congregation of Philippi.”

And the man placed a small sack of money at Paul’s feet.

Immediately Paul motioned to Aristarchus to bring a pitcher of water and wash his hands and feet. Aristarchus then helped him up from his bed and placed his tunic and black mantle over him.

Washed and dressed, Paul sank to his knees and murmured, “Father of all living things, I’m not worthy of the grace You’ve manifested toward me. May Your Name become known to all the peoples of the world through the redeemer You’ve chosen. May Your name be sanctified in all the world, and may Your spirit come on all people. May all people make a covenant in You and be bound through the grace of the redemption You sent to the world through Your holy servant, Your chosen son. For all comes from You, and all returns to You, the Holy One of Israel.”

Then Paul arose, sat on the bed and listened to the report brought to him by Epaphroditus of Philippi. Then he set about his plans with renewed energy.

He had Epaphroditus go out into the city to find any Philippians he could in the streets, shops, and inns, and preach the gospel to them. He rejoiced with Aquila and Priscilla, who were now relieved of their monetary anxiety.

And to top it all off, Tychicus and Onesimus arrived from Macedonia, and Demas came from Thessalonica the very next day. Paul’s house was once again transformed into a lively center for the uncircumcised Christians of Rome. Day after day the word went out to slaves and freedmen. Before long Paul had a little chair brought in, and sitting there, sometimes bound to a soldier, and sometimes with hands free, he taught from morning to night, winning souls to Christ.


Paul began to dictate a letter to the Philippians to Timothy. He always opened his heart in his letters, speaking without reserve, but to the Philippians, who’d always come to his aid when he was in need, like a mother to her child, he wrote with special feeling and unashamedly told of the heaviness of heart that he suffered because of his bondage, and of the faith that triumphed over it.

“I want you to know that what has happened to me has only served to spread the gospel. Even Caesar’s household knows that I am in chains because of Christ.”

“For me Christ is life, and death is gain. . . . I’m torn between two paths: I long to go be with Christ, but for your sakes it’s necessary that I remain in the flesh.”

And after explaining what having the “mind of Christ” meant, and that “every tongue should confess that Christ was lord to the Glory of God the Father,” he goes on.

“Be pure and spotless, children of God without stain. . . . Let me have pride in you in the day of Christ, so that I have not labored in vain. And if I should offer myself as a sacrifice for your faith and service in God, so shall I rejoice in his hope with you.”

He writes that he is sending Timothy to them, “for there is no one after my heart who will care for you in complete devotion. Others have tried to serve themselves, but he served with me in the spreading of the gospel as a son serves his father. . . . “

He still hopes to see the Philippians with his own eyes, but he also remembers those who are trying so hard to hinder him in his work. “Beware of the dogs!” he cries.

He talks about his Jewish origins, as he does in other letters. “I am a Jew of the Jews, of the Jewish tribe of Benjamin, a Pharisee, according to the law.”

But now he’s ready to give up everything for Christ, “so that I may no longer have my own righteousness which is of the law, but that which is of faith, the righteousness which is of God through faith.”

In his eagerness to emphasize faith, he even counts as loss what he had once counted as gain. “Yea, I count everything a loss that I held before the great knowledge of Christ my lord, for whom I have given up everything.”

But Paul is also human and in his bitterness he speaks of his former belief as utterly worthless. Certain tones in the letter also betray the discomfort of his chains, a human discomfort his spiritual libation cannot wholly overcome. But these are nothing more than spots, which he regrets passionately, and he can’t help revealing them in his letters, though again and again, he rises to heights of which he alone is capable.

“And now, brothers, whatever is true and honest and just and pure, whatever is of good report, and whatever is praised, set your heart on these things.”

In a surge of love and gratitude he says, “I do not speak to you out of want, for I have learned to be content with what I have. I know how to suffer want and how to conduct myself in plenty. I can do everything with the help of Christ. But you have shared with me in my affliction.”


It so happened that a young Tuscan was Paul’s guard on the day he finished his letter, a new man he’d never seen before. When he had taken over the prisoner from the previous guard, the young soldier kneeled down and cried, “I know you’re a holy man, and are sent by God. I know that it is for Jesus Christ that you’re in chains.”

“How do you know the name of Christ? Did Gabelus or Eubulus send you?”

“No. It’s well known on the Palatine hill, and everywhere in Caesar’s household they call on it,” said the soldier. “Take me, I pray, into your faith.”

Paul knelt down by the side of the soldier who was his keeper, and, lifting up their chained hands to heaven, called out, “See, O Lord! These chains You placed on my hands ring our Your praise and Your glory among men. I thank You for them!”