21 - The Meeting of the Ways

In the midst of a wall of shields, the two apostles walked, hand in hand, chained to a soldier on either side. As they walked, they continuously murmured, “The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want. He makes me lie down in green pastures; He leads me beside the still waters. . .”

The centurion in command, who had lately felt a certain friendliness toward the Christians, had allowed them to go together, saying to his men, “Let them go together as far as the Porta Ostiensis. But they must be separated there. The old man goes to the Trans-Tiber and to the Vaticanum to be crucified. But this one is a Roman citizen and must be taken to the Cesti Pyramid and beheaded."

Before they were led away, Paul had bent down over the opening in the ground, and called out to the prisoners in the dungeons, “The grace of our lord Jesus Christ be with your spirit! Amen!”

After him Peter called down, “Peace be with you who are in the lord Messiah! Amen!”

A chorus of voices floated up from the depths below from the strong, the weak, the firm and the tremulous, “Peter and Paul! Pray for our souls!”

And for the first time the two names were intertwined in a single cord of salvation.

When they reached the Porta Ostiensis, they embraced one last time.

“Peace be with you, brother Paul!”
“Peace be with you, brother Peter! I bow to you who lived with our lord.”
“And I bow to you who carried the gospel to all the world.”

As they were led away from each other they turned their heads back.

“I will see you soon in the lord’s presence,” cried Peter.
“Pray for me, apostle to the Jews.”

Old Simon, with his bloody feet, was led uphill. Beyond the Porta Trigemina lay the Sublicius Bridge. How often the faithful had led him this way to the assemblies in Priscilla’s house on the Aventine hill! Simon looked up the slope, where a few passersby stopped and paused. Their lips moved unmistakably in prayer, and Simon recognized them. And as the procession drew through the narrow streets of the Jewish quarter the cortege grew. A proclamation seemed to run ahead, for heads appeared at the windows of the high houses.

“They’re leading the apostle to the cross,” was heard.

Simon saw a multitude of sad faces. He smiled at them and they tried to draw enough courage to smile back.

“Don’t cry. I’ll be with the lord soon to live with him forever. And you too will one day be with him as well. I promise you this in the name of our Father in heaven, who is the God of all grace. Peace to you all.”

After passing through the Jewish quarter, he began the climb to the place of execution, where his cross waited for him. But before they nailed him to the cross, the law required that he be scourged first. They bound him to a wooden block, and two soldiers wielded the lead-loaded whip over him. His blood gushed out under the lashes, but no sound came from the old man. His lips moved silently in prayer of thanksgiving for the privilege of suffering like his lord.

Suffer like his lord? Who was he to compare himself with the lord? How often he’d denied him, how often he’d fled from the cup again and again. How could he possibly say that he was dying the death of his lord?

They unbound him from the block and half led, half carried him, toward the cross. They asked him if he wanted a cup of sour wine, for even a slave was allowed this.

No, but he did have a last request. In the broken Greek he’d picked up in the years of his wandering, he asked them to nail him to the cross head down.

The executioners thought maybe they misunderstood his broken Greek.

“Head down?”

The old man nodded and feebly moved his hands to indicate his meaning.

“Head down. Nail me to the cross head down.”

As strange as this request was, they accommodated him, nailing his two feet to the arms of the cross, and his hands to the upright.

Two naked feet looked down from the crosspiece, the toes twisted and broken, like the roots of an old olive tree. But they were mighty limbs, broad boned, and gnarled like tree trunks. Blood ran from his wounds, which were like open mouths. And as the bleeding feet looked heavenward, the gray, mighty head with its short, tangled beard, hung earthward. And still the eyes smiled, seeking the little group of men and women who stood at a distance, and still the lips moved in prayer and greeting.

After a time his voice was heard clearly, “Hear, O Israel, the Lord our God, the Lord is One.”

Men and women lifted their faces heavenward and repeated, “Hear, O Israel, the Lord our God, the Lord is One.”

There was silence as blood descended, pulse-by-pulse, into his head. His feet were now as white as snow, but his face was crimson, like a flame. And now the old man pulled his head violently away from the cross. His bloodshot eyes were wide open. In a hoarse, joyous voice, he called out, “My Rabbi! My Rabbi!”

His head fell back on the cross, and was motionless.

* * * * *

At the same time that the apostle to the Jews was being nailed to a cross at one end of Rome, the apostle to the Gentiles was being dealt with at the other end. A small group of faithful also accompanied him on his last earthly journey, walking behind at a discreet distance. Luke the physician and Eubulus the soldier were among them. Pudens and Linus plus two or three women were there also, and Paul greeted them with his last looks and commended them to God with his last thoughts.

He had no fear now for the future of the congregations. He’d planted their roots deep, and the storm would only drive those roots deeper. He’d done his work well and there were strong hands to continue it.

“I have fought a good fight,” he said to himself as he stood at the execution place.

In his final moments he once again reviewed the years that linked Saul with Paul. There was nothing he would change. The errors and sins he committed when he was Saul were brought to nothing. He’d cleansed them with his blood, sweat, and sorrows. And Saul too had sought God, in his own way, according to the light he’d been given. Everything had been as it had to be, according to its own time. He’d always done what he understood to be right in the eyes of God, and he’d never done anything with a view to his own advantage. His life had been a sacrifice laid on God’s altar.

Even that part of his life that had been without Christ, and even against Christ, had been consecrated to God. It had been one long pursuit of the divinity.

Now the pursuit was over, and he was at the end of his course. His life was whole; his death was just the next part of his mission. Everything was as it should be. He had discharged his obligations, and now a crown of righteousness was laid up for him.

Firm in the bond of peace between him and the Lord of the world, he approached the block on which his head would be severed from his body with unfaltering steps.

As a Roman citizen, he was spared the final humiliation and torture of the lash. A soldier approached him, to bind his eyes.

“Must this be done?” he asked.

“It’s the law,” said the soldier, and Paul submitted, for his respect for the law did not abandon him even then.

As he knelt and placed his head on the block, Paul spoke one last time.

“The grace of our lord, Jesus Christ, be with you all.”

In those final seconds, Paul saw the vision once again of the white, radiant angel, his body steeped in stones, his arms lifted up for flight. And now Paul felt himself transformed into the angel. He felt himself being lifted up, he was in flight, the world was below him.

“Hear, O Israel, the Lord our God, the Lord is One.”

These were the last words of the apostle to the Gentiles.

* * * * *

A few days later, word came from Jerusalem that the long awaited storm in Judea against the might of Rome had finally broken out. The Jews had risen in rebellion and had defeated the troops of the Procurator Festus. Once again, after so many years, Jerusalem was in Jewish hands. Jerusalem was free!

The Jewish congregation in Rome received the news with mixed feelings. There was joy, certainly, but there was also uncertainty and fear. They trembled not only for themselves, but even more for the fate of the Temple. They trembled for the ultimate symbol of Jewish unity, more important in their eyes even than national independence.

But on the following Sabbath at the crowded Augustus Synagogue in the Trans-Tiber, they talked of another portentous event, the execution of the two apostles. The martyrdom of Christians had served to heal the breach between the two sections of the congregation even before the apostles’ deaths, and if any bitterness survived the common sorrow of the long persecutions, it was wiped away now. The uprising in Jerusalem and the martyrdom of the apostles became connected in the worshippers’ minds.

Zadoc, the old rabbi of the congregation, sought to restore calm in his sermon that morning.

“We don’t know whether the hand of Israel can overcome the sword of Rome. Certainly all things are possible with God, but what is the earthly power of Israel against the earthly power of Rome? Isn’t it like a thorn against a mighty forest?

“But I say to you that the spirit of God has already overcome the power of Rome, right here in the city of Rome.”

The congregation looked at the preacher in wonder.

“All things are possible with God!” cried a voice.

“All things are possible with God!” repeated Zadoc. “I say to you that Rome has already been overthrown!”

“What do you mean, rabbi?” someone asked.

“Do you see what is happening in Rome? The more they burn the believers in Christ, the more they throw them to the beasts, the mightier grow their numbers. Behold! Rome went forth against Jerusalem with the sword, and Jerusalem went forth against Rome with the spirit.

“The sword conquers for a while, but the spirit conquers forever!”



THE END