12 - The Parting of the Ways

The picture Paul saw in his vision became indistinguishable from the one in the flesh. The face and hands of the stoned preacher pursued him relentlessly, so that later that same night he felt compelled to go back to the stoning field.

Oh, not that he doubted the justice of the “sentence” carried out against the blasphemer. But the preacher’s utter certainty, his ecstatic face, and his dying cry, “Father, forgive them,” these things filled him with restlessness. Didn’t the blasphemer’s rabbi say the same thing just before he died? But where do they get the strength for such a thing?

Now to give up one’s life for the cause of God was the highest achievement of which man was capable. It fulfilled the great commandment, “You shall love the Lord your God with all your soul.” But Saul could never admit that these men drew their strength from God, so there must be some other explanation.

The Evil One also possessed powers that he gave to his own. This was clearly seen in gladiators who fought wild beasts or each other in the arena, or in those who castrated themselves in the presence of idols. No doubt about it; evil also had its gifts of power. But how could one tell whether such self-sacrifice came from true sanctity or from the fountain of evil? Saul’s assurance lay in the fact that under absolutely no circumstances could one hanged on a cross be Messiah!

But no matter what he told himself, his restlessness wouldn’t go away. It drove him through the dark narrow alleys of the lower city that night and out through the Dung Gate beyond the walls. He knew he wasn’t going through his own will. Irresistible need drove him to seek confirmation of the justice of what had been done.

When Saul reached the summit and looked down into the hollow he was startled into jumping backwards.

In the dimness among the stones below, he could see flickering wicks of oil lamps like little points of light moving about. Dark forms swam here and there and he could hear a murmur of voices. Torches were being lit, and Saul saw some men lifting up the body of the stoned preacher.

The crowd grew larger as more lights came into view, and as Saul’s eyes adjusted he was amazed to see that some important leaders among the scribes and Pharisees were there. He recognized rabbi Nicodemus and some of his pupils, as well as Joseph of Arimathea. Some of rabbi Gamaliel’s pupils were there as well. They all acted as men act at the burial of a great saint.

Saul drew his mantle up over his face, so as not to be recognized, and slipped into the funeral procession. He heard words of praise for the dead man given, not just by the man’s companions, but also by scribes and Pharisees. They freely exalted the blasphemer as a saint, and condemned the execution as an act of murder.

“What was the point?” Saul asked himself. “We tried to make an example of him, and just the opposite has happened. It hasn’t weakened them; it’s made them stronger.”

Many in the group went so far as to envy the dead man. When they reached the burial place, there were speeches in which the dead man was openly and publicly called a martyr and a saint. They said his death was a testimony to the coming of Messiah. He’d been privileged to drink of the same cup of sorrow and suffering as Messiah. There was no higher privilege reserved for man.

It wasn’t in Paul’s nature, of course, to be intimidated by the words and thoughts of others. What all of this did was to make him realize the vast extent of the danger at hand. If sages and teachers and prominent rabbis could allow themselves to participate in the funeral of a blasphemer, then it was indeed ill with Israel.

Paul’s zeal for the Lord was strengthened that night. He was convinced more than ever of the justness of his cause. Heaven and earth may have to be moved, but the fire lit by the men of Galilee must be extinguished.

The next morning when Saul went to the schoolhouse in the court of his master, he was treated like an outcast. No one approached him or even returned his greeting. His friends of yesterday turned their faces away, and those who had known him knew him no longer. He stood alone in a corner of the study house saying the morning Shema.

Behind him he heard someone say, “We say the Shema this morning in the company of a murderer. Is this permitted?”

Saul didn’t respond, nor did his faith waver. He was totally certain that he was not moved by personal feelings but rather by the will of God. Let heaven and earth tremble. Yea, let angels bear witness against him; he could not be diverted from his path. He took take any insult they could dish out. This was a test ordained by God, and he was willing to bear the spear of Phineas.

“For Your sake I will bear all things,” he prayed in his heart. “I will make my body a target for their arrows, that Your will may be done.”

This didn’t mean, of course, that Saul wasn’t hurt by all this. He still needed human companionship. Heavenly joy couldn’t completely replace the warmth of a living heart or an understanding ear. So he tried to find someone, anyone, in whom he could take human refuge.

He tried humbly to explain himself to people, to get them to understand his convictions. But it was in vain. No matter whom he tried to approach, they hurried away. No one would even listen. He had become like an unclean leper.

So he sought refuge in the corner of the study house, covered his face with his hands, and prayed, “You know, O Lord, that it wasn’t for my own honor, or the honor of my father’s house, that I did what I did, but only for Your Name’s sake, and for the sake of Your holy Torah.”

The brief prayer restored his inner balance.

A short while later, the overseer of the house came up to him, and without any greeting or response to Saul’s greeting, delivered a message, “Saul of Tarsus, you are asked to appear before your rabbi.”

With that he turned away without the farewell of peace.

Saul found Gamaliel waiting for him in the large lecture room. He was alone. That was not a good sign. The rabbi’s face was pale and weary; the face of a man bowed under a double load of years and sorrows.

Gamaliel responded To Saul’s greeting with a cold nod, so that Saul froze to his spot near the door. But Gamaliel motioned him to approach.

Without greeting or offering his hand, the rabbi said, “It has been reported to me that my pupil took part in the slaying of the just man, Stephen, the preacher of the Hellenist synagogues, without the sentence of the court.”

“My rabbi and my lord! Witnesses ratified the sentence according to the words of the Torah. And it was the witnesses who cast the first stones, even as Moses said.”

A verse from the Psalms came from the rabbi’s lips, “And to the wicked man God says, ‘Who do you think you are calling on my law?’ Without the sentence of the court the slaying was not a good deed, but murder! And all who had part in it are murderers!”

The blood left Saul’s face. He tried to form an excuse, but the rabbi’s words continued to fall like hammer blows.

“When God has reason to punish a teacher, he does it through his pupils. I laid awake all night trying to figure out what transgression of mine has been so heavy as to deserve such a calamity. But God is just, so surely I must have earned this affliction.”

Silence fell between pupil and rabbi. This was the sign that Saul could now withdraw, but he had no strength to move. His head fell low, until Gamaliel clapped his hands to signal the overseer who entered to escort Saul out.

But before he sent him away, Gamaliel spoke once more. “I am afraid for you Saul of Tarsus. The path you’ve chosen is narrow and perilous with an abyss on either side. Know this, that whoever falls into it is never lifted up. You sorely need the help of heaven. I will pray for you that God may open up the sources of love in your heart. For there are no signposts on this path. There is only one thread for you to hold onto. ‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself.’ This thread alone can guide you. Hold fast to it. It may yet save you.”

Those were the last words Saul ever heard from his rabbi, and the last time he ever saw him before setting out on the long and dangerous road of his life.

11 - The Stoning

The same week Paul appeared before the Chief Officer of the Temple with his two witnesses, Zadok and Samuel. The two witnesses testified that in a sacred place on the previous Sabbath, they heard the preacher Stephen declare to the Hellenist Jews that Messiah would abolish the law of Moses and destroy the Temple, building another in its place.

Chief Officer John had the accuser and witnesses wait in the office while he sent a messenger for his father, old Annas. The witnesses formally repeated their charges, but to their astonishment, old Annas showed no sign of rage. He only sighed with a despair bordering on indifference.

“Yes, yes, we’re a sinful generation,” he said. “And because of our sinfulness we lack the power to do anything against those who dig at the foundation of our sanctity.”

“But the Sanhedrin,” Saul exclaimed, astonished by these words. “The sentence of the High Priest!”

“The Pharisees sit in the Sanhedrin, and they say that every son of Israel is free to preach anything he wants. The High Priest’s sentence depends on their decisions.”

“So it’s open season on God’s vineyard, then,” asked Saul, hotly. Didn’t Moses teach us to burn out the evil in our midst?”

“Ask your rabbi, Gamaliel. Then ask him what he did in the case of those other men who preached in the Temple courts.”

“I know,” muttered Saul.

“One unclean sheep sickens the whole flock. The wrath of God is poured out on the whole congregation for the sins of one man. At least until another Phineas rises up and takes it on himself to execute the vengeance of God,” said Annas, suggestively.

“So what can we do? We can’t stand by and see this happen. “Who knows how far it’ll go?”

“Oh, we know only too well how far it’ll go,” Annas continued. “Do you think this is preached only in the Synagogue of the Libertines? It’s preached every day in the Temple courts. And from here it’ll branch out to every Jewish settlement abroad. Then people will say it’s pointless to make pilgrimages to Jerusalem. They’ll bring their sacrifices to gods closer to home.”

“I say we stamp out the fire before it spreads!” cried Saul.

“How?”

“Let my lord the High Priest listen,” interjected a Sadducee scribe named Herod, “and I’ll tell him how. The Torah says, ‘Let the hands of the witnesses be the first against him.’ Whoever heard the blasphemy should carry out the punishment. In fact, if they don’t, then they too are guilty of blasphemy.”

“Is that the Pharisee interpretation of the law?” Saul asked Zadok.

Now the House of Hillel, which Saul belonged to, generally took a milder view than Zadok’s House of Shammai.

So Zadok answered, “There are commandments of action and commandments of restraint. We teach that commandments of action must always be carried out with no exceptions.”

“If that’s so, then we know what we have to do.”

“The hand of the witness shall be first against him!” exclaimed both witnesses.

“Not so fast, young man!” said Annas to the impetuous Saul. “We must be prudent. If there’s a disturbance in the city streets, the Romans will hear of it and interfere. So first go to the synagogues where the blasphemy is preached and awaken their zeal for the Lord so they take matters into their own hands. The God of Israel needs many Phineases like you. God grant that your numbers increase in Israel.”

With these words Annas dismissed Saul and the witnesses.

* * * * *

As a group, the Hellenists were even more protective of the Temple than the Palestinian Jews. Knowing first hand the evils of the idol worship and abominations of the pagan world, they regarded the Temple as the only island on which the scattered Jews of the world could take refuge. They couldn’t imagine life without that source of hope and comfort. Many of them had abandoned their homes and given up their worldly comforts to move to the vicinity of the Temple.

Thus they felt a wave of horror at Stephen’s audacity. How dare he speak of the destruction of this place? Saul found it relatively easy to find a multitude of Greek-speaking Jews to carry out his plan.

Two days after the meeting with the High Priests a crowd of Jews pulled Stephen out of the pulpit right in the middle of a sermon and half carried and half dragged him to the court in the High Priest’s house. For this wouldn’t be a meeting of the regular Sanhedrin in the Chamber of Hewn Stones. It would just be the Little Sanhedrin, which included the Chief Officer and two or three scribes and interpreters of the law. In point of fact, this group had no power to decide life or death issues, or even to conduct an investigation of such issues.

When those dragging Stephen got there, they were surprised to see all the members of the High Priest’s family already assembled, as if they’d been expected. Stephen was handed over to the guards who place him before the priests, and the witnesses, Zadok and Samuel immediately began to testify that they’d heard the preacher state that Jesus would destroy the Temple of God and the Law of Moses.

The High Priest addressed the accused, “Is this testimony true?”

The preacher offered no defense. Instead he started talking as if he were resuming the sermon he’d been preaching before he was interrupted. He spoke of the patriarchs, of Moses, of kings and prophets, showing that all was only preparation for the coming of Messiah. The witnesses tried to interrupt him, but the High Priest signaled for quiet. He was patient, because so far there was nothing in the sermon that could be used against Stephen. He was following the same line of tradition as all other preachers. It was only when he came to King Solomon and the Temple that he departed from the accepted story line and inserted his own interpretation.

“But the Eternal does not dwell in temples made by man. Even as the prophets said, ‘Heaven is my throne, and earth my footstool. Where is the house you would build for me?”

Although this was a direct quote from the prophets, his listeners immediately began shouting, “He blasphemes the Temple! We will not listen!”

“Stone him!”

The High Priest gestured for quiet. Suddenly, the accused changed his tone from one of explanation to one of denunciation. He looked at the High Priest and the other judges and, pointing at the mob, said, “You stiff-necked and uncircumcised of heart and ear!”

He couldn’t have picked a more offensive word than “uncircumcised.” It was tantamount to calling them pagans.

Several shouting men tried to break past the guards to grab him. But he shouted all the louder, “You’ve always rebelled against the Holy Spirit, even as your fathers did. Which of the prophets did your fathers not persecute? They killed those who prophesied the coming of the Just One, to whom”

“What prophets did we ever kill?”

“To whom,” continued Stephen, resolutely, “you became the traitors and the murderers.”

This was more than the crowd could stand. Ignoring the High Priest’s gestures, they shouted, “To the stoning place!”

Suddenly Saul shouted, “Let the hand of the witnesses be the first against him!”

The crowd roared approval as Stephen continued, “You received the Law from the hands of angels, but you haven’t kept its commandments holy.”

As the crowd went wild, Stephen looked up and the sunlight of late afternoon fell on his red beard. The autumn sky shed a flood of brightness that broke in a thousand reflections on the golden thresholds and golden gates of the Temple, so that the courts and the place of trial were bathed in a sea of gold. As the preacher’s voice rang louder, his hands reached toward heaven, white as snow in the sunlight.

“I see the heavens open and the Son of Man standing at the right hand of God.”

A second later a white body swam in the air, above black heads, bearded faces, and clenched fists.

The High Priest called for peace, but no one listened. The guards had disappeared. Alexander the Overseer cowered behind a curtain. In vain the High Priest said, “This is against the law! We haven’t sentenced him!”

But no effort was made to hold back the procession. At the head of it marched Saul of Tarsus. Behind him were the witnesses, Zadok and Samuel, and behind them followed the roaring confusion of hands, heads, beards, and a half naked body swimming in the midst.

The field of stoning, which lay outside the city, wasn’t really a field. It was a pit on the summit of a hill. Heaps of stones lay around the sides, and the bottom was not visible because of the stones that covered it, some of them showing flecks of dried blood.

The clothes were ripped off the accused, and a multitude of hands threw him down into the stony pit. A voice cried, “Witnesses, come forward and do your duty.”

Zadok and Samuel stepped forward. Saul started too, but some inner command, stronger than his own will, held him back.

“Two witnesses is enough,” he said aloud.

Zadok and Samuel threw off their burlap garments. Seeing this, Paul decided that rather than be a completely passive bystander, he could at least guard the clothes of the stoners. Though tattered and wretched, the clothing of the poor is still precious to them. He sat down on the bundle and watched the first stones fly down on the condemned man.

Blood suddenly covered the white body. . . A rain of stones came down. . . . A naked hand raised up. . . . More stones rained. . . . The white, bloody body kneeling, falling, rising. . . . Half a body now dipped in stones, and half a body rising naked out of the sea of stones. . . . The last rays of the sun falling on the white body, making patches of silver amid patches of blood. . . . Two naked hands, like silver wings, lifted toward the sun, a white face lifted to the sky, and the high, ringing, metallic voice of the preacher, “Lord Jesus, receive my spirit!”

An angel, half sunk in the earth, the upper half of the body flickering in white fire, arms lifted to heaven; where had he seen this picture before?

There was hot confusion in Saul’s mind. He dropped his eyes, for he could look no more. But he could never shut out the voice, ringing still, but dying away, “Father, forgive them. . . .”

* * * * *

As Saul returned from the execution, a strange man came up and walked with him. It was twilight and the lower city deepened in darkness. Saul wasn’t sure if he knew the man, but he also didn’t look closely to find out. The excitement of participation in the bitter incident still held him.

As if to lighten a burden on his conscience, he said aloud to the stranger, “God be thanked, a commandment has been fulfilled. ‘The hand of the witnesses shall be first against him.’”

“Yes, but you’ve forgotten the second half of the verse,” responded the stranger.

“What second half?” asked Saul.

“That anyone who bears false witness shall be punished with the same punishment visited on the accused.”

“But there was no false witness,” answered Saul, angrily. “Didn’t you hear the words out of his own mouth?”

“Doesn’t matter. You know as well as I do that if the court hasn’t pronounced sentence, then the accused is as innocent as a newborn child. They who stoned the child, then, are not witnesses, but murderers.”

The stranger disappeared, leaving Saul alone in the dark, narrow street.

Saul stood looking at the shadows that swallowed up the stranger. He was certain now that he’d seen him before, but he couldn’t remember where or when.

10-The Zealot

The spirit of Saul of Tarsus was aflame with jealousy for the Lord. Neither his teacher’s wise words nor his own conscience made any difference. Once they broke into his own flock and destroyed his best friend Barnabas, his jealousy for the Lord was made hotter by his personal jealousy.

The expectation of Messiah was everything for Saul, and he couldn’t, under any circumstances, stay indifferent toward anyone who dared to call themselves Messiah’s congregation. Since he couldn’t be one of them, the only alternative was to destroy them. The larger their influence, the greater his rage. And even if he didn’t want to hear it, the news of their victories was everywhere. He couldn’t escape it.


The workshop of Eliezer, the goat’s hair weaver, lay in the deepest part of the Kidron valley where there were many trades such as canning and pottery. In spring and autumn when water poured down from the city into the valleys, Eliezer’s courtyard would be flooded. But on this day, as Paul sat at his loom in the middle of the hot summer, the earth was parched and withered. The people in the valley moved among dense clouds of dust. The men in the workshop sat under the scant protection of camel hair and piles of goatskins. At the loom, they worked the hair into tents.

As they worked, Saul listened to his fellow workers talk about the decision of Rabban Gamaliel at the trial of the disciples. Some of them were satisfied with the decision, while others agreed with Paul.

“They say the redeemer’s already come,” cried out Samuel, a hairy man known as a zealot. He was a giant of a man, whose face, almost hidden by a vast beard, showed the many scars left by swords and spears in the many revolts in which he’d played a part. In fact, he was sure to be in the middle of any Temple disturbance, and the city authorities always kept an eye on him.

“A man who went like a lamb to the slaughter, and let them hang him on a cross; he the deliverer of righteousness? If he were really Messiah, he’d show us what he could do, and deliver us from Rome.

“As for my sins, leave that to me and my Creator!”

“I’m glad someone’s come who can forgive my sins,” said Nathaniel, a young weaver with an evil reputation. “I need it.”

Nathaniel attracted many women of the valley, particularly widows. He took one after another, leaving them to look after themselves, while he spent his days in the taverns. Whenever a complaint was made, which happened often, he was handed over to the authorities and scourged. Eventually, he was condemned to work for Eliezer and his wages turned over to the court to pay for a release for a widow he’d married and divorced. There was even a rumor once that he’d been with a married woman, for which the penalty, if caught, was death.

Having heard of the forgiveness of sins, this Nathaniel turned to the women working at the other end of the court grinding sand, extracting oil from seeds, or kneading dough, and called out, “Did you hear that, women? I can sin as much as my heart desires. A redeemer has come, who forgives sins.”

“May your mouth be filled with dust for such mockery,” said one of the men, whose chest hair was so thick, it looked like a second beard. This was Joseph, the porter, who carried the completed tents from the workshop to the storehouse. “I was a slave, and the one you mocked redeemed me.”

“Was he so rich, he could redeem you?”

“Oh yes, very rich. Not in gold, but in God’s wisdom. The ropes of sin were tighter on my body than these ropes of my labor. But he set me free with his words, and made me a free son of Israel.”

“I heard him preach,” said a little man who was almost concealed in the mound of goat’s hair he was carding. “It was like pearls of wisdom. He comforted all the heavily burdened and the oppressed.”

“His disciples testified before the Sanhedrin that he is Messiah, and that God raised him up to his right hand.”

“That’s blasphemy.”

“Yes, and the Sanhedrin sentenced them to the lash for it.”

“I heard tell they took the punishment with joy and thanked God they were allowed to suffer and be humiliated for his name.”

“I think there must be something to it if men believe in him that strongly.”

“It’s not blasphemy,” cried Zadok of the house of Shammai, speaking for the first time. “It’s idolatry to say that a man is the helper of God. Since when does God need a helper?”

Saul knew Zadok and had waited to hear what he had to say. Zadok was long and lean, as if kneaded and drawn out like a baker draws out his dough. He looked like a serpent waiting to strike, all head with a slender backbone and a fiery red beard. Silent by nature, he would listen to discussions a long time before throwing in a word, but his word was always brief and pointed.
As a disciple of the house of Shammai, he exemplified the severe religious discipline of his teachers. He was so scrupulous about ritual purity that he lived in isolation. If not for the Sabbath, he would never eat cooked food, for no vessel was ever pure enough, no meat kosher enough, and no bread of which he could be certain that the proper Temple tribute had been paid out of the grain. He mostly nourished himself with roots and vegetables, and his wasted body showed the effects. He did follow a trade, but most of his time was spent in the study house where he lived and where he listened to the fiery harangues of that school’s disciples everyday.

“Rabban Gamaliel was present at the last trial,” said someone in defense of the disciples. “He heard what they had to say, and his decision was to set them free. It was only the priests who sentenced them to the lash.”

“There are many today who trample God’s garden in desecration, and no one forbids it,” answered Zadok. “Woe to Israel!”

“What desecration?” asked one.

“I’ll tell you what desecration,” said Paul swiftly. “Go to the synagogue of the Libertines, where a man by the name of Stephen preaches. You’ll hear him say things that’ll make your ears tingle.”

The clatter of looms stopped, and several men stared at Saul, who continued to work.

“Yes, come with me this Sabbath, and you’ll hear things about the Holy One of Israel you’ve never heard before. And right here in the Holy City. Maybe the great ones are silent, but must the little ones be silent too? Our sages say that every Jew is responsible for every other Jew. We are all responsible.”

Another said, “The sages also say that where there is no man, be a man.”

“Strength and triumph shall come to the Jews from an unexpected place,” quoted Zadok the zealot.

“All right Saul,” said Eliezer. Take us with you to the synagogue this Sabbath. Let’s hear what the man has to say.”

“I’ll go too,” said Zadok.

“Count me a third,” cried Nathaniel. “Maybe I can have a hand in a good deed, and my sins can be forgiven.”


That night, when Saul returned to the study house of his rabbi, the words rang in his mind, “Strength and triumph shall come to the Jews.” Three men had promised to come with him to the synagogue. And there would be others. Surely there would be others.

* * * * *

On the Sabbath, a large congregation assembled to hear Stephen, not just Libertines, but also Cyreneans and Alexandrians. Most of them were there to hear him preach on the return of Messiah, but some enemies were there as well, not so much to listen as to dispute.

Saul and two of the men who’d promised to attend, Zadok and Eliezer, were among them.

The synagogue was filled to overflowing. Stephen stood on the pulpit, draped in his prayer shawl. His fiery red beard shone in the afternoon sunlight. His arms were lifted to heaven, and he spoke with a passion his listeners had never seen before.

Joseph Barnabas stood close to him like a servant or bodyguard.

Now Barnabas was one of those men who always need someone to look up to, a guide, or a teacher. That had been Saul before, and in truth he still secretly honored Saul. But when Saul left him, he found a new master in Stephen. In one sense the preacher was closer to him because of his belief in Messiah, but in another sense he was remote because Stephen didn’t have the same iron hard personality that Saul had. But he followed the preacher to every synagogue where he delivered his messages.

Saul observed his one time friend from a corner, seeing those hungry eyes filled with childlike wonder and unbounded devotion, eyes that were once turned toward him. Saul experienced a pang of bitterness. He knew that such feelings were unworthy of one with his pure zeal for the faith and he tried to suppress it. But it was no use. His longing for his friend was too strong.
The voice of the preacher rang out, becoming deeper and more impassioned as he quoted verses from the prophets proving that the tortured and slain Jesus was the true Messiah. Messiah took on the sufferings, not because he didn’t have the power to save himself, but in order to take the sins of the world on himself so that the world might be purified and prepared for his return.
The multitude was entranced.

Then Zadok spoke up, his voice harsh, “Children of Abraham, how long will you stand by and let alien feet trample the garden of the Lord?”

The spell having been broken, some fists were raised.

“Blasphemy!”
“Drag him to the Sanhedrin!”

Before the budding tumult could get out of hand, Saul pushed his way to the front and gestured to the crowd, shouting at the top of his voice for silence. Gradually, the place quieted down.
“I would ask the preacher a question,” he said as he turned toward Stephen. “Your rabbi said that he would destroy the House of God in three days, and build another. Do you too believe this?”

“What is the House of God?” answered Stephen. “Is our God a god of wood and stone to be destroyed when his house is destroyed? What boundaries can confine our God?”

It seemed the words had some effect, for the audience again became silent and attentive. But Saul spoke again.

“That’s not an answer. The people have a right to know. Did he or did he not say that he could destroy the House of God in three days, and build another in its place. Isn’t that why the Sanhedrin sentenced him to death?”

“If my lord said it, then it is holy truth, for he has the power,” answered Stephen firmly.

“You’ve all heard him then,” cried Saul. “You are witnesses that here in this place and at this time, the preacher said that God’s holy Temple will be destroyed.”

“We are witnesses!”

“Zadok! Samuel! Come. We’ve learned what we came for.”

“Drag him to the Sanhedrin!”

“Not on the Sabbath. The Sanhedrin has long arms. They’ll find him.”

With that, Saul, Zadok, and Eliezer left the synagogue.

09 - The Two Marys

When word got out that that the disciples had been tried before the High Priest and set free, their esteem rose tremendously in the minds of the people. This was especially true when it became known that Rabban Gamaliel, the Master of the Pharisees, had said that perhaps the thing was from God. He said that if it was, then fighting against it was tantamount to fighting against God.

Legends soon became widespread. There was the miracle Simon had performed on the lame man and there was the story of angels having released the imprisoned disciples. And of course everyone knew about the many miracles that their rabbi had performed.

Multitudes now flocked to the chamber in King David’s wall, where the disciples lived, including the sick, the lame and the possessed. Wherever Simon went he was followed by a host of cripples, hoping that at least his shadow might fall on them.


Meanwhile, the congregation of Hellenists was also growing. Barnabas discovered that there were many cantors and higher synagogue officials from wealthy and powerful Greek colonies, including Cypriots, Libertines, and Cyreneans among others. Stephen, Phillip and other well-known figures among the Greek Jews were already members. This increase in numbers and influence led to a demand for special representation in the “serving at tables.”

This was a matter of utmost importance.

The Pharisees practiced a strict code when it came to who could and who couldn’t sit and eat with them, and the new congregation had adopted the same procedure. The only people who could be admitted to the meal were those who were full-fledged “companions.”

Nor did these restrictions apply only to Gentiles, for fellow Jews who weren’t “companions” couldn’t break bread with them either. The utmost caution was taken with newcomers because ignorant people and outsiders were automatically suspected of sexual impurity. The touch of their hands made food ritually unfit for eating. Moreover, once a man was admitted to the table, he was subject to a severe regimen of cleanliness, both in food and in his general behavior.

The only real difference between the old companionship and the new was that the new believed Messiah had already come and would soon return. For them, the table was regarded as an altar and the breaking of bread as a sacred service. They were supreme symbols of comradeship and companionship. Therefore they were extremely careful in admitting newcomers to the service.

Up to this point, the only men who had the right to admit newcomers to the table were the twelve disciples, eleven appointed by Messiah directly, and the twelfth chosen by lot and the Holy Spirit. They also were the only ones who could perform baptism.

At some point the increase in membership made it impossible to hold the common meals in one place, so they began holding the meals in the various homes of wealthier members, who, as a result, were absolved from the duty of selling their earthly possessions. But they also made it a requirement that at least one of the twelve had to be present at any common meal. That one would also make the decision as to who was allowed to sit.

As time went on, this serving took up more and more of the disciples’ time. Disputes arose, and since the disciples alone had the authority to settle them, they soon found themselves prevented from preaching the gospel and accepting new members. Something had to be done.

Simon Peter’s simple fisherman’s sense told him that the net should be thrown out where the haul was likely to be greatest and that there was a huge harvest to be had in the Greek-speaking community. But as he understood it, authority had only been given to the twelve, and he didn’t know if this right could be transferred to others.

The disciples were basically simple people. They weren’t strong in the law. They had their faith and their mission, and it was enough. But Simon had also recently found out what it was like to spend the night in fervent prayer when he was in prison. So he built on that experience, and again spent a night praying about this problem.

The next day, at his suggestion, the Hellenists were told to draw lots among themselves to pick their own “cantors” or “servants.”


There was another related problem, as it became clear that no matter how prepared they were for the coming of Messiah, there were still everyday needs that needed to be met. Many people found it very hard to give up their earthly possessions, and this became an obstacle to growth. So a new procedure was instituted. When Barnabas’ sister Mary joined the congregation shortly after he did, she wasn’t required to sell her estates or the great house she had, as Barnabas had done. Rather than let them fall into the hands of speculators, it was decided that homes such as these would be kept as common property of the congregation. Members worked the estate’s vineyards and olive groves and lived on them. Mary’s house was particularly useful, for it accommodated a large number of people, and had large rooms for prayer meetings and common meals.

The first person to be moved into the new quarters was Mary, the mother of Jesus, who was becoming weaker from day to day. Susannah, the mother of the Zebedees, and Simon Peter’s mother-in-law also moved in and were charged with her care. Mary Magdalene, the first to see Messiah after his resurrection, also moved in. She had taken on the character of a prophetess, but she was also wasting away with the passing of the days.

Mary Magdalene and Mary the widow, Barnabas’ sister, were drawn together right from the start. Mary the widow reawakened in Mary Magdalene a love she once had for incense plants and sweet oils, but had gotten away from. They often sat together among the shadows of the cypress alley, when the ripening jasmine poured its sweet perfume on the air, and the mint its bitter perfume, and Mary Magdalene told Mary the widow the stories of the days when her lord and redeemer lived among them. She told of the days when love failed her, and how she heard the good man of Nazareth, whose words came to her like the perfume of sweet oil. She told how she left her many lovers and her powerful protectors and her rich house and went to the house of Simon the Pharisee to find him. She saw her lord seated at the end of the table by the door. She fell at his feet, begged forgiveness for her sins, anointed his feet with her sweet oils, and dried them with her hair.

Mary told further of the days when she and the disciples followed their lord and savior through the hills and valleys of Galilee, of the Sabbath they spent together in his mother’s house, and of his last days in Jerusalem.

Young John Mark sat at the feet of the two women. He listened attentively to Mary’s descriptions of the life and acts of King Messiah, and he wrote them down on the tablets of his heart.

08-Rabban Gamaliel

It soon became evident in the High Priest’s household and among his followers that freeing the disciples of the Galilean had been a mistake, especially since he himself had provided dignity to the proceedings with his presence. The story was being spread that the simple Galilean fisherman had dared to stand up to the High Priest and was none the worse for it. This unpunished courage was seen as proof that the Galileans were protected by higher powers. If that were so, then there must be some truth to what they said.

Regretting his leniency, the High Priest issued orders that if the blasphemers appeared in the Temple court, they were to be arrested and imprisoned, not in the Temple dungeon, but in a special fortress in the heart of the city.

Simon and John appeared right on time and the orders were carried out, but the incident didn’t go smoothly. A large crowd tried to prevent the arrest, and there was a scuffle. Some Pharisees nearby also raised their voices in protest, and even more remarkable, there were several priests who also tried to interfere.

But this was nothing compared to what followed. The next morning came the astounding news that Simon and John, who been placed under lock and key, were back in the Temple courts preaching their dangerous doctrine. An immediate investigation was ordered, during which the guards naturally denied any complicity in the escape. Being under fire, they suggested that perhaps a band of angels had freed them. This was an even more dangerous suggestion than to believe that they had secret admirers among the guards, since the High Priests denied the existence of angels. And since the culprits couldn’t be identified, they contented themselves with warning the guards to make no mention of angels or miracles.

This proved to be just as futile as the investigation, for the story of a miracle spread through the crowds with lightning speed. The disciples themselves confirmed it, and their standing with the people was greatly strengthened. It soon became obvious that if another arrest were to be made, it had to be done with the utmost skill.

This time the guards were told to wait until evening when the Galileans were leaving the Temple courts and the crowd would be smaller. Their arrest this time was so swift and silent, that it was over almost before the people even realized it was happening. Simon and John were thrown into the prison room on the premises of the High Priest’s court, and a double guard of hand picked men surrounded it. The Small Sanhedrin was quickly convened.

The High Priests knew they would receive opposition in the case from the Pharisees, but old Annas reminded them that without the presence of Gamaliel, the prince of the Pharisees, the trial would have no effect. But if he could be persuaded to participate and lend his authority to a negative judgment, the new movement would receive a deathblow. Thus he was invited to attend.

After receiving the invitation, Gamaliel immediately sent for rabbi Nicodemus and for the rich Joseph of Arimathea, both of whom had known Jesus of Nazareth. They met in the special office of the Master of the Pharisees, located above the cedar roof over one of the alleys of pillars in the Temple court. He questioned them closely concerning what kind of man the rabbi had been, what he taught, and also what had happened at his trial. He felt he needed this information in order to be able to pass proper judgment on the men who called him Messiah.

Gamaliel’s pupil Saul heard about the trial and became passionately interested. His fellow students were amazed at the feverish manner he used in discussing it. Even more startling, he broke several rules that normally governed these situations. For example, whenever a rabbi was called in to pass judgment on someone accused of committing a crime, his pupils were allowed to aid in the defense, but they were not allowed to join in the prosecution. But Paul did much more than aid the prosecution. He carried on a public campaign against the Galileans in the Hellenist synagogues and in the public markets. He even went so far as to reproach his fellow students who were preparing materials for the trial. This was regarded not only as tactless, but also as a serious breach of discipline.


By the time the day of the trial came, Gamaliel had decided that what was taking place couldn’t properly be called a trial, because no witnesses would be called. He decided this was nothing more than an investigation, and therefore he did not ask any of his students to accompany him, as he would have had it been an actual trial. He only took a few scholars with him as a matter of dignity. Saul was bitterly disappointed.

He remained behind in the study house, hoping against hope that his rabbi would at least have the right attitude toward the blasphemers and lend his prestige to their condemnation.

But in this hope too he was bitterly disappointed. Not just disappointed, he was amazed and even frightened. The “trial” ended in the disciples’ vindication and every other student in the school interpreted it as a victory for the Pharisees over the High Priest. Even worse, they saw it as a great demonstration of religious freedom, the principle that every son of Israel had the right to interpret and preach whatever he wished as long as it remained within the framework of Jewish laws, and the Jewish constitution.

To Saul’s way of thinking, this judgment was a frightening and dangerous precedent. A sharp knife had been delivered into the hands of the Evil One, and its edge was pressing against the thread that held Israel to his Father in heaven. So Saul openly rebelled against the action of his teacher.


One day a message was delivered to Saul that said that the master wanted Saul to attend to him and wait on him the following day. This puzzled him, for it was a high and unexpected honor to be called to service out of turn. And Saul was delighted to obey.

The next morning he was up before dawn, bathed his whole body, and anointed himself with oil, a luxury he rarely allowed himself. He combed his hair and beard, put on fresh linen, and covered himself with the black mantle, the uniform of the Jewish scholar. Then he rubbed his hands with a special salve, to take out some of the roughness from the loom, and hurried to the door of the rabbi’s house.

Now Gamaliel’s house reflected his double dignity as the master of the Pharisees and as a descendant of the royal house of David. It was large with rich furnishings, according to the saying, “Fine vessels and ornaments enlarge the spirit of man.” But the master cared little for these things himself. They were there more for the important public functions and receptions that took place there than for his personal tastes.

When Saul appeared at the door of the great hall, the master, an old man whose face was overshadowed by vast white eyebrows and covered in part by the long beard that reached down to his waist, personally greeted him. His beard was not anointed and curled, like the High Priest’s, but grew naturally, following the custom of the Pharisees. Nevertheless, since he was a representative of the Torah, Pharisee law required the utmost attention to personal detail. Thus, his beard was combed with extreme care, so that every silver thread seemed to lie separately on his breast.

He was covered with a finely woven black mantle, and he wore a covering of black silk on his head as an insignia of his rank. He walked with a stoop, as if carrying a world of invisible burdens, and he looked like a man in his eighties, though, truth be told, he wasn’t yet seventy.

He approached Saul with an outstretched hand. “Peace to you, my beloved pupil, and peace to the whole house of Israel.”

“Peace to you, my rabbi, and to Israel,” answered Saul, bowing before his teacher.

“I didn’t send for you, Saul, while the trial of the just men was pending, because I knew of your strong opinions, and I feared the pressure of your will on mine. But I have wanted to see you, and so I sent for you as soon as I could after the trial was over.”

“I too have desired to see your face, my lord and rabbi,” answered Saul, bowing again.

“You are a faithful son of our father Abraham. May there be many like you in Israel.”

Formal greetings having thus been exchanged, a servant now stepped forward and handed Saul his “instruments” of service, a garb of white Sidonian linen and a cruse of oil. Carrying these marks of distinction, Saul accompanied his master to the bathhouse for the ceremony of washing and anointing. Afterwards, he helped him put on the white linen garment and went back with him to the large chamber set apart for the master. There they repeated the morning Shema together.

After the prayer, the overseer of Gamaliel’s house reported that the needs of all the members of the house had been met. The servants had eaten their morning meal, the animals had been led to drink, and their bins had been filled with fodder. It was only after this report that the master sat down to his morning meal, which consisted of a few olives, a light salad, a morsel of bread barely large enough to justify the blessing, and a cup of wine.

Now the purpose of this “service” was to create more personal contact between teacher and pupil than was possible in any other setting. The student could observe the daily conduct and bearing of his teacher, and the teacher could use the opportunity to give personal instruction by way of private conversation as opposed to lecture. Perhaps a kindly correction was needed and a parable or everyday incident could be used to indirectly hint at the object. It could be a personal or impersonal application, but either way, the pupil would likely proudly repeat the words to his fellows later.

As Saul was filling his rabbi’s wine cup, he saw an insect circling the rim. Afraid that it would put a blot on his “service” if it fell in, Saul caught it with his free hand, crushed it, and threw it away.

Rabban Gamaliel, who was seated at his sparse meal, called out, “Saul, Saul, make good the damage you’ve done to the Creator.”

Saul paused in astonishment and said, “What do you mean, rabbi?”

“Does not a creature belong to the One who created it?”

“Certainly, rabbi.”

“Then you’ve inflicted damage on the Creator, for you destroyed one of his creatures. Quickly, then, repair the damage.”

“But how can I bring the dead to life? Am I coequal with the Lord of the world?”

“Then let no one ever cause damage that he can’t undo. And if this is true with such a trivial creature as an insect, how much truer is it of the higher creatures, who are created in the image of God? Who dares, then, to take it on himself to destroy a man? Keep this always in mind, Saul.”

“But may it not be, rabbi, that I was just the instrument of the Almighty and was sent to destroy the insect because its time had come?”

“The Lord has many instruments, all prepared to do His will. Therefore choose those purposes that will benefit man and bring peace to the world. Leave the other purposes of the Lord to others.”

“Tell me, rabbi, who are these ‘others?’ Aren’t we all part of the whole? And if there is anything that needs to be done, regardless of its nature, why should I leave it to my friend to do? How am I better than he?”

“The sages have taught that God sends good through good men and bad through wicked men. So determine to be God’s instrument for good.”

Here the conversation ended for it was time to repeat the after meal grace, and start the day’s work.


Saul accompanied Gamaliel while he made the rounds of the various offices of his institution. They went to the special office over the cedar roof in the Temple court for a meeting of scholars and teachers of the Pharisees. The master often consulted them regarding questions he received from Jews of the Diaspora. A resolution was adopted with little debate that morning to intercalate an extra month in the calendar, so that the festivals would revert to the regular cycle and the Jews of all parts of the world could celebrate them at the same time. John, the scribe, took his bronze stylus, dipped it into a box of dye, and began to write on parchment as Rabban Gamaliel dictated.

“To all our brothers in the dispersion of Israel, let peace be with you forever. Know that it has been found good in the eyes of the sages, to increase by one the number of months of this year…”

Saul listened carefully and his heart was moved. Here, from this little room and this little table, the master spoke to the Jews of the world in all their exiles. In fact, the messengers were already waiting outside the office to carry the letters to the scattered communities of Israel. These threads would go out to Asia, to Macedonia and the Greek islands, to Egypt and to Rome, and then all return here to this office above the Temple court. All Israel was knit into a single body.

The scene sank deeply into Saul’s memory.


After completing the day’s labors, between the afternoon and evening prayers, Gamaliel was able to devote a little more time to his student in service. The rest of the day would then be taken up with dinner, at which it was customary for the master to entertain important visitors.

Resting on his couch in the office, Rabban Gamaliel said, “Saul, my beloved pupil, in what path shall a man choose to walk?”

“My rabbi, has not David sung, ‘I have chosen the way of righteousness’?”

“What is the righteousness of man, my pupil? ‘Only God is righteous in all His ways.’ Man’s righteousness is but a short garment and is one-sided. ‘God seeks the heart of man.’ Only the heart can guide us along the right path, for the heart is our eye in the darkness.”

“If that’s so, then why has God given us laws and commandments? If the heart is our chief guide, why not follow the heart alone?”

“Consider what God desires of us, Saul. Is he like a king of flesh and blood, who rules over us by strength? No, my son. Laws and commandments were meant for our good, to help us in our search for the right path. Man’s inclination is evil. But God granted this much grace, that He created man in His image, that man might lift himself towards higher worlds. He set posts and markers on the way in the form of laws and commandments. But that’s not the chief thing. We are the chief thing.

“The laws and commandments have just one purpose, to purify and train us until we can unite our hearts with God and with His will. The Torah consists of just one sentence, as spoken by the venerable Hillel. ‘Whatever you desire should not be done to you, do not to another. This is the whole Torah. The rest is commentary.’”

The things Saul learned from Gamaliel that day sank deep into his soul, like a seed, to bear fruit in time to come. But in the hour of planting, he wasn’t aware of it. In fact, he went home heavy hearted and disappointed.

07-Saul of Tarsus

There were two souls living side by side in the heart of the young man, Saul, and they struggled for the mastery, even as Jacob and Esau struggled in the womb of their mother.

Saul was raised in Tarsus in the modest home of his father, a goat’s hair weaver. He knew very early in life that he lived on a little island set in an ocean of paganism, sinfulness and despair, and that whatever was fine, decent, and godly was to be found in his father’s house and in the synagogue, God’s house.

As a little boy he learned the Torah, the Prophets and other sacred books in the school attached to the synagogue. Even then, he was deeply affected by the prophets, and his mind was filled with fiery visions of the “last days.” His father also made sure Saul was educated in Greek literature. So Saul grew up, as many Hellenized Jews did, with a thorough knowledge of the books and culture of the surrounding world, and, in spite of his contempt for the idol worship of the Gentiles, he developed a grudging admiration for their serenity, their joy of life, and their feeling for the beautiful.

Tarsus was the crown of the province of Cilicia. It was set like a jewel in the green plain under the shadow of Mount Taurus. The melting snows of the mountain fed the Cydnus River, which connected the rich little inland province of Asia Minor with the Mediterranean. Great rafts of felled trees and galaxies of ships carrying wheat, oil, and wine floated down the river. A score of jargons and dialects could be heard in the streets, for the city was full of Greek craftsmen, Egyptian cooks, Assyrian perfume mixers, Sidonian merchants, and Roman legionaries, officials, and tax gatherers.

But above all, there were philosophers, teachers, and their pupils. Tarsus ranked with Alexandria and Rome as the city of scholars and thinkers. Every school of thought was represented there. The academies were famous for their courses in arithmetic, rhetoric, and astronomy. The loftiest moral codes were also taught.

So the people seemed to have everything they needed for happiness, including the supreme protection of Roman citizenship since the time of Pompey.

But neither earthly riches, wisdom, nor the privileges of Roman citizenship, could provide her inhabitants with the one highest happiness a man can know. They could not provide him with faith.

All the moralistic teachings of the sages did not place a single binding obligation on the population, for they were just philosophies, not practices. By day the Greek sages preached the highest morality, the virtues of modesty, and contentment with the bare necessities of life. But without the true God, the words of the sages were as empty as the clashing of cymbals. So the days of Tarsus were like the days of a drunkard, and the nights were the nights of harlots.

Clouds of incense swirled from everywhere around Saul. Orgies like those of Sodom and Gomorrah were repeated nightly, as the image of man, created in God’s image, was defiled by the removal of all boundaries of sex. Men, crazed with drink, and painted like whores, wandered the streets. No one was spared. Even children were pulled into the torrent of wastefulness. And it was the followers of Plato and the pupils of the Stoics who practiced all this.

As a young man, Saul was constantly tormented by the question, why had God created Jews and Gentiles? How could Gentiles be guilty if God hadn’t revealed Himself to them? He knew that Messiah would one day come to the Gentiles and offer to make them Jews, and either they would accept or be doomed to hell. But why the delay?

Saul had lived his whole life in anticipation of the great event, and even sometimes thought that perhaps he could be an instrument for its’ hastening. At first he thought of it as entirely a Jewish thing, but with the years, he began to think of a Messiah for the world. The Messianic passages in the prophets, especially Daniel, and in the Hellenistic literature, led him to believe that Messiah would change the entire world order. Thus his concept of Messiah evolved from that of an earthly liberator to a divine redeemer, and he dedicated his life to the vision of such a Messiah.

He told no one of these thoughts and feelings, of course. But because he not only had a great love for the Jewish people, but also compassion toward the Gentiles, he began to live consciously in the spirit of this vision. He spent every possible moment in the study of sacred texts and secular books. He denied himself the luxuries of ordinary life and ignored his parents’ hints that it was time for him to take a wife. His health, never very good anyway, suffered from the severe discipline he imposed on himself. He often worked himself into a frenzy, which terrified his parents, but they couldn’t persuade him to change.

He started to talk about going to Jerusalem where he could feel himself close to the Temple, the heart of Israel, and where he could sit and learn at the feet of Rabban Gamaliel. This struck a chord with his parents, for what Jewish parent of the dispersion didn’t dream of having a son study in the Holy City, and especially learn from Gamaliel?

So when a time came for his father to go up to Jerusalem on one of his pilgrimages, Saul’s mother lovingly packed Saul’s bags with a student’s mantle and shirts she wove for him. Saul’s father had a married sister who lived in Jerusalem, so Saul wouldn’t be a complete stranger there, and his father also took a letter of introduction to the chief of the Pharisees.


Soon after arriving in Jerusalem, Saul met Joseph Barnabas. The two young men were drawn to each other by their common education in Jewish-Hellenistic literature, and above all, by their common faith in the coming of Messiah. But it was hardly an equal friendship. Under Saul’s dominating spirit, Barnabas was like clay in the hands of a potter. Before he knew it, his opinions of Messiah had also changed from a deliverer of the Jews into a deliverer of mankind. So while on the one hand, the wealthy, aristocratic young man of Cyprus was overwhelmed by the disciplined bearing of Saul, on the other hand, Saul found the one spirit to whom he could pour out all his dreams and visions of Messiah.

This friendship endured until the day Barnabas declared that he had found Messiah.


The break turned out to be more painful for Saul than for Joseph, and he set out to vent his bitterness on the “disciples” who’d robbed him of his friend. Barnabas had been the only one of Gamaliel’s students who’d been able to put up with the harsh ways of Saul and to endure his overbearing spirit. Once he was gone, Saul realized how few friends he had. Saul was considered a hard man, quick-tempered and slow to forgive. Above all he was known for his obstinacy. When he made up his mind on a question, it was useless to try to change him. His arguments were passionate, and he had no regard to feelings of others.

But if the other students couldn’t love Saul, they did respect him, for the fire of a great love for God and for Israel burned in his heart. No one could ever challenge the purity of his motives, for whatever he said or did, he was sincere; there was nothing of self in him. Faith in the heavenly Father was not a separate refuge or reward for his righteousness; he desired neither glory nor praise. Faith was the only possession of worth, and for its sake alone, the burden of life was bearable. Life for its own sake wasn’t worth the tribulation or torments involved. The only happiness lay in the bond with a heavenly Father.

Saul was not only a powerful preacher, he subjected himself to the disciplines he preached. He’d known the torments of the flesh since childhood, for a malarial disease had fastened on his bones and eaten into their marrow. His bones became soft, his blood watery. But no word of complaint ever passed his lips, not even to his dearest friend. It was a point of pride with him to bear his affliction like a secret gift from God, for “whom God loves, he punishes,” says the scripture, and the sages taught, “Afflictions are God’s gifts to his saints.”

Saul thought that even nurturing this pride was a sin. So he fought with his pride, and he would have exposed his sorrow with others, in order to lower himself in their esteem. But he couldn’t bring himself to do it. This pride was his second nature.

In spite of his physical distresses, Saul was determined to be the most disciplined student in his submission to the rules and ordinances of the House of Hillel. He wouldn’t sleep on a soft bed, or even lie down on a bamboo mattress. In the summer he slept in the courtyard of the house of study. In the winter he slept on a hard bench in the dormitory. During the week his food consisted almost entirely of flat cakes of bread, a little fruit, and a few olives. He drank only water, rarely touching wine. Most of the time he was under the secret vows of a Nazarite, even though this was against the spirit of the House of Hillel, and Rabban Gamaliel reproved him sharply for it. He said that they who multiply vows multiply sin. They transgress the commandment to greatly care for one’s body. Playing the saint too much leads to pride of spirit. It was said that this reproof was the only thing that kept Saul from going out into the wilderness and joining the Essenes. And it was one of the rare times he allowed himself to submit to outside influence.

But Rabban Gamaliel could never persuade Saul to take a wife, as nearly all the other students had done. Gamaliel’s advice to his pupils was to marry young, so as to have “bread in their basket,” and so that they might not be haunted by the desires of the flesh. He taught them that there were two things that are good for a man to do in his youth, to take a wife and to choose a path for himself.
But Paul’s answer was, “God’s Torah is my wife, and I will follow along whatever path God leads me.”


If Paul didn’t choose a path, he did at least choose an occupation, pursuing the trade of goat’s hair weaver he’d learned in his hometown. Two or three times a week he hired himself out to a fellow countryman, a tent maker, who had his workshop in the Kidron Valley, under the wall of the road to the Mount of Olives. He did this at the expense of his studies.

While every student was supposed to memorize the verses of the Hebrew text, there were also many oral laws and ordinances to memorize. There were customs and regulations to learn, as well as the parables and aphorisms that embodied them. The studies of Rabban Gamaliel’s pupils covered every branch of life, and there weren’t enough hours in the day to master them all. Saul couldn’t keep pace with the curriculum because of his trade, and he couldn’t be persuaded to find an easier way, as the other students had done. For while they paid lip service to hard work, they lived either on public charity or the gifts of relatives. But Paul regarded the earning of his bread by the labor of his hands to be an important principle of the moral life. By being dependent on no one else for his daily bread, he was free to act and speak as his conscience dictated, and he considered this more essential to the moral life than training and knowledge. Even the pressure of his time-honored teacher couldn’t change that.

This obstinate pursuit of a trade gave him an advantage denied his fellow pupils, for he learned the ways of life, not from theories of law, but by contact with reality. He came in daily contact with the very poorest of the poor, and saw first hand the hills and valleys man must confront and the winding paths life must follow. He saw men and women prepared to sell all they had for a morsel of bread. He saw women give away their hair, God’s natural adornment, to the hairdressers, to cover the heads of others. He saw the worn out bodies of old laborers thrown into the street like garbage. He knew that for the poor man there was no hope but in the life to come, when Messiah would raise him up.

Saul felt strongly that this hope was not just for the children of Israel. Paul found many aliens in Jerusalem living in the lower city, from all parts of the world, even Samaria, who had a longing for Messiah within them. They’d heard of the resurrection from some Jewish neighbor, perhaps, or some preacher, and they longed for a share of the inheritance. Their hope in this life was so low that they wanted to come under the skirts of the mantle, so to speak.

Saul listened carefully when he heard these forlorn, abandoned people talk of Messiah. He discussed it with his fellow workers at the loom. He overheard small groups whispering about it in the dark corners of the synagogues. Donkey and camel drivers at the pool of Siloam had this hope on their lips, as did washerwomen kneeling by the Kidron stream.

But Saul also knew how deep the Galileans had planted the roots of the false Messiah. For if Messiah had come, Israel would certainly no longer be chained to Rome. These men were deluding the people with false hope. They were an abomination, deceivers, preying on the pitiful longings of the people.

The worst of it, of course, was not just they reached the ignorant. They’d reached the best in Israel, his tenderhearted susceptible friend. Barnabas had fallen into their trap and was lost to him. He’d been parched with thirst, and they’d given him poison to drink.

Many others were lost as well, such as Stephen, and the gentle-spirited Philip, and Nicholas the saintly Gentile. The number of victims grew daily, and the rabbis stood by and did nothing. Where was a new Phineas, to defend the honor of God with fitting zeal?


One hot afternoon, a few men were sitting on the stone benches around the water cistern at the Study House of the Prince of the Pharisees. They were discussing the incident of the followers of the new Messiah having been arrested by the Temple Overseer and then released by the High Priest.

“Once they were brought before the High Priest, they should have been pronounced guilty and wiped out,” said Saul, every word falling like a hammer blow.

“But why such a bloody sentence on someone just because they believe in the resurrection?”

“No sir!” answered Saul. “Not because they believe in the resurrection, but because they preach a false Messiah, one who was hanged, no less. It is written, ‘The curse of God rests on one who is hanged.’”

“What about all the others hanged on the cross by Herod and Varus? Does the curse of God rest on them too? No way! They were saints, and they died to sanctify the Name of God. Now was this rabbi Messiah? No Jewish court found him guilty. The rabbis weren’t present at his trial, so in our eyes he must be counted innocent. And if there is any truth in what his followers say about his raising the dead, then this would be proof that he’s sinless, and the saying that the curse of God rests on one who is hanged wouldn’t apply to him. On the contrary, he’d be considered a martyr and a saint.”

“And I say that for these very reasons, setting the disciples free will be a calamity for all generations to come. As soon as the common people hear about this, they’ll flock to listen to their doctrine. From now on, they’ll gather souls without number.”

“But if their cause is just, why shouldn’t they?”

“But don’t you see where this leads?”

“So because you’re afraid of what might happen, you want to condemn Jews to death against the Torah?”

“For the greater glory of God and of His holy Temple,” cried Saul.

“And I say that for the greater glory of God and of His Torah, they’ve earned life,” answered the first student.

And the students shrank away from Saul.

06-Simon Peter

Word began spreading in Jerusalem that the men who came to the Temple courts everyday to preach of their Messiah could also heal the sick, ease the heavy hearted, and even drive out evil spirits. No one knew who started the rumor, only that it came from the poor beggars and the real or pretended cripples who sat in the vestibule of King Solomon every day.

One day as Simon and John passed by the vestibule, a man pushed himself forward from the crowd of cripples. He couldn’t walk; so he dragged himself on his knees. He raised his bearded face toward Simon with the look that beggars have when they expect to be given bread or money.

Filled with pity, Simon said to him, “Look at us!”

The cripple gazed intently back and forth from Simon to John with thirst in his eyes. And from Simon’s eyes came a look of immeasurable faith to quench that thirst.

“Silver and gold I have none,” said Simon in a deep, hoarse voice, “but what I have I give you. In the name of Jesus of Nazareth, rise up and walk.”

The beggar looked like he’d just been struck repeatedly with a hammer. But his eyes remained fixed on Simon.

Seeing his hesitation, Simon stepped forward, took hold of the cripple, and lifted him up with his powerful arms. The cripple’s paralyzed legs didn’t trust themselves to hold him, and he tottered and swayed, like a newborn calf. But he didn’t fall. Finally, he took a few steps forward.

All of this took place at the time of the afternoon sacrifice when the silver trumpets could be heard in the courts. The Levites on the steps leading to the entrance of the Women’s Court began to sing their psalms. The multitudes that had come to the Temple to pray murmured the prayer of the coming of Messiah, their faces pressed to the floor.

“As to the seed of the house of David, Your servant, cause it to blossom soon, and lift up his heart, for we await Your help every day. Blessed are You, O Lord, who lifts the horn of salvation.”

Through the silence that followed, there rang a sudden cry, “Hosanna! Hosanna!”

The prostrate congregation wouldn’t look up, of course, but the voice kept ringing in the silence, “Hosanna! Hosanna!”

When the prayer ended, the worshippers began murmuring as they looked up.

“What was that? What’s happening?”
“It’s a miracle from heaven!”

A number of men came running into the court.

“The Galileans who preach Messiah have performed a miracle in his name!”
“How? What? Where?”
“They healed Nehemiah, the crippled beggar.”
“Who did?”
“There were two of them. Simon, the short, heavy one with the tangled beard, was the leader in it.”
“In whose name did you say they healed him?”
“In the name of Jesus, the Messiah of Nazareth. Or so they call him.”
“Ignorant Galileans can’t even talk right. They say sibboleth for shibboleth.”
“Isn’t that the Jesus who was hanged from the cross this past Passover? I knew something would come of that.”
“Yes, I remember him teaching in the Temple court. He had this look that, well, I don’t know.”
“Who knows? Maybe the time has come.”

In the meantime, the crowd grew thicker around the threshold of King Solomon’s Vestibule, and a procession of beggars, cripples, blind and half blind set out toward the Court of the Women. The healed cripple led the way, a big raw-boned man with vast eyebrows and a beard that fell over his chest like an apron. As he marched he waved the crutches over his head, while a procession of swollen bellies, watering eyes, and twisted limbs swarmed around him.

Tapping their staves on the stones of the court, they performed a grotesque imitation of a dance as they cried out, “Hosanna! Hosanna in the name of the son of David!”

A blind man became separated from the procession. He seemed to be under the impression that the Kingdom was coming then and there without him. Desperately he shouted, “I want to be in the Kingdom of Heaven. I’m a son of Israel from the tribe of Naphtali, and I’ve been waiting long for Messiah.”

A dense circle formed around Simon and John, not just beggars and cripples, but regular worshippers as well. Students from the schools of the rabbis were also there. There was a loud babbling of voices, but one question was heard over and over. Who was this Messiah in whose name this miracle had been performed?

Simon cried out, “Men of Israel! Why are you filled with wonder by this thing, and why do you stare at us as though we performed it. It wasn’t by us, but by the name of Jesus the Messiah through us.”

Well, as soon as these words came out of Simon’s mouth, the crowd began to dissolve. People hurried away in fear of being caught associating with the new doctrine. Simon looked and saw Alexander, the overseer of the Temple approaching, surrounded by Temple guards.

Now Alexander was notorious for his savage discipline, and his appearance agreed with his reputation. Thick heavy ringlets of hair seemed to hammer his flesh as he walked. His massive legs seemed to be poured of metal, and he walked with iron footsteps, casting terror into all who saw him. In his hand he carried a whip with many thongs. He was authorized to arrest anyone who transgressed against the laws of the Temple courts. The guards marched in a double row behind him, and they also carried whips with many thongs. As they drew near, Simon grew visibly paler. His eyebrows quivered and his voice grew weak, but he continued to preach.

As did all sons of Israel, Simon believed the High Priest to be the supreme authority over Jewry, the anointed one in the line of Aaron. Reverence for the office ran deep in his blood, and thus a struggle now went on in the heart of the simple fisherman. His faith in Messiah was deep, but so was his dread of the High Priest’s authority. His knees seemed to melt just like when he was with the servants of the High Priest near the fire on the night his rabbi was being tried.

He wanted to flee with the others, but just then the broad shouldered John, standing behind him, laid a heavy hand on his shoulder, and growled into his ear, “Simon, would you deny the lord a second time in the hour of trial?”

A quiver of shame passed through Simon. No, not again. He would not deny his lord again.

Though his limbs were like water, Simon remained at his post, looking steadfastly at the Temple overseer.

“By whose authority do you do this?” he was asked.

“By the authority of Jesus of Nazareth, my lord and savior.”

“Do you mean the blasphemer who was hanged on the eve of Passover? Take them! They shall answer to the High Priest!”

Instantly the guards seized Simon and John, pinning their arms behind their backs. Voices rose from those who hadn’t fled.

“What right do they have to lay hands on rabbis who preach the resurrection?”
“They haven’t said or done anything against the law. Our rabbis also teach the resurrection.”
“But the sons of Eli hate the resurrection. You know why?”
“No, why?”
“Because they alone of all the house of Israel will remain forever in the depths of hell.”
“Yes, the chains of the sons of Eli are heavier on our necks than the bonds of Rome.”

The loaded whips of the guards began to fly about the heads and shoulders of the protestors. The two prisoners were pushed forward toward the dungeons of the Temple, which were outside the gates, next to the Hall of the Sanhedrin, by the chamber of Hewn stones.


It was too late in the day for holding a trial, so Simon and John were held prisoners overnight. In the darkness of the long hours of that night Simon was aware of a sense of peace. Prophets from of old had been prisoners in the dungeons of the Temple because they’d dared to proclaim God’s truth against the mighty.
All through the night Simon prayed, “O Father in heaven, even as I believe in Your holy servant, the deliverer whom I’ve seen with my own eyes, even so strengthen me, so I may be able to serve him with all purity. When I’m face to face with the mighty to bear witness for your holy servant, put Your mantle around me to shield me from the piercing glance of the strong. Fill my heart with faith and let the strength of Your truth be seen in my eyes. O Lord, let the shadow of Your holy servant fall on me, that I may bear faithful testimony to the truth. Amen!”


In the morning Alexander the overseer delivered his report to John, the chief officer of the Temple, but the latter didn’t think if sufficiently important to bring to the attention of the old High Priest Annas, who was charged with all incidents occurring within the Temple precincts. Nor was he inclined to make an issue of it before the current High Priest. Actually he was more amused than anything, and found the story both ludicrous and insignificant. A couple of gross, illiterate Galileans had convinced themselves that one of their countrymen was Messiah and had risen from the dead. This was nothing to make the foundations of the Temple tremble. Many “Messiahs” had arisen. They flourished for a few days, and then they vanished, never to be heard from again. This one too would die the natural death of oblivion.

Somehow the matter came to the attention of Annas anyway. But he was inclined to agree as to the lack of importance of the “dangerous criminals.” The word “Messiah” was like a bellows, capable to fanning a spark into a raging fire, and fire was not something to be played with. The Galilean louts ought to be called in, given a thorough talking to and warned never again to mention the name of their Messiah in the sacred precincts. With that they should be sent packing. A regular trial was out of the question. Indeed, if anyone should be brought to trial, it ought to be the Pharisees, who were responsible for all this nonsense about resurrection.

Meanwhile, word had gotten around the High Priest’s household about how the Temple Overseer had thrown the men who had healed the cripple into the dungeon. This created considerable excitement among the servants and officials because they all remembered the night when the Roman soldiers seized the rabbi and brought him to trial in the court of the High Priest.

A crowd assembled when Simon and John were led from the dungeon to the inner office, and one of the servant girls pointed at Simon and cried out loudly, “There he is! That’s the one who swore by everything he held holy that he had nothing to do with the man when he stood warming himself by the fire that night. And now that his rabbi is dead, he preaches in his name?”

Simon recognized the servant girl’s voice. His eyelids fell, he felt a tug at his heart, and he said inwardly, “Lord of the world! Be with me in this hour!”


For all his contemptuous attitude, the current High Priest was curious to see the Galileans. So he sent word that the proceedings were not to begin until he arrived.

Old Annas, meanwhile, was quite certain that the simple fishermen who’d scattered in terror on the night their rabbi was arrested would fall on their knees in the presence of eminence, confess their sins, and promise never to repeat their blasphemies. That would be the end of it. That’s why he had no objection to having the High Priest present. The Chief Officer, however, objected that such a gathering of supreme officials would cast an artificial importance to the incident. But the old High Priest and the current High Priest had their way.

But to the amazement of the supreme officials, this assembly of hierarchy did not overwhelm the Galileans. Simon’s knees were seen to tremble, but only for a moment. The next instant he recovered. Instead of stammering and confessing, he looked steadily at the High Priest and admitted in a loud clear voice that he had been the instrument of the miracle performed the day before in the Temple court, and that the power had been that of Jesus of Nazareth, the lord and savior of Israel, who was delivered into the hands of Rome and who rose from the dead on the third day.

The High Priest’s face became pale, while old Annas closed his eyes and tugged with one hand at his beard. John, the Chief Officer, became very sober, and young Annas, the youngest son of old Annas, but his upper lip.

Only Alexander had an immediate reaction. He raised his hand as if to slap Simon, and cried out, “Is this your answer to the High Priest?”

The blow didn’t fall though, for in that instant Alexander caught the glance of old Annas. The High Priests then looked at each other in silence. They were at a loss for words, for the situation hadn’t gone according to plan.

“Take them out,” commanded old Annas.

The guards led Simon and John into an adjoining room, while the priests remained silent, like images on their stone seats. Finally the High Priest spoke up, “There are only two possibilities here. One, we can act with firmness, destroy these men, and tear out this evil by the roots. Two, we release them and thus give them permission to continue their agitation.

“If we do the latter, we confess to having committed a miscarriage of justice by handing over an innocent man to the executioners.”

“Confession or no confession,” said Eliezer, another former High Priest, “the people will see it that way. Worse than that, we will have shown weakness.”

“No, no, you go too far,” interrupted old Annas. “Our only punishment is to expose these Galilean boors to ridicule. Better yet, let’s shame them to themselves, by showing them how foolish their illusion is about this Messiah of theirs. But it must be done with wisdom. With one hand we must push them away, and with the other draw them closer. Leave it to me. Bring in the men!”
When Simon and John again stood before the High Priest, old Annas ordered the guards to leave the room. Then he turned on Alexander, the Temple Overseer, and acted indignant.

“By what right, and on the basis of what law, have these innocent, honest, and god-fearing men been arrested and held prisoner?”

And he furiously commanded him to leave.

Then he turned to Simon and John. “You are free, good men!”

Simon and John stood paralyzed before the semicircle of High Priests. The sudden change in attitude bewildered rather than reassured them. They dared not take old Annas’ words literally.

So they waited and old Annas continued, “Sit down, good men, and let us talk this matter over at our ease. God forbid that we have anything against you. On the contrary, we rejoice that God has given you this power of prophecy. No doubt the Temple court is responsible for it. We’ve also heard that you strengthen the spirit of the people and bid them walk the path of righteousness.

“There is only one matter that divides us. You do these things in the name of Jesus of Nazareth, who you call Messiah, rather than in the name of the God of Israel. Now no one can approve this. You’re pious and god-fearing men, and you know full well that all things come from the living God of Israel. Promise me, good men, that you’ll heed my words.”

And old Annas stretched out his hand to Simon.

“Simon was silent for a moment, gathering his thoughts. Then he raised his big, childlike eyes and looked at Annas and the High Priest.

“Tell me,” he said, “is it proper to turn one’s back on God’s command and to listen to the speech of men? We received our command from God.”

This was by no means the reply Annas expected. He lost his poise for a moment. Then he looked sternly at the Galilean fishermen, trying to determine whether their answer had been given in sincerity or whether it was a cunning countermove. But he could read nothing in Simon’s face, which was open and naïve, and continued to stare at him.

“God’s command?” he repeated. “God’s command to do what?”

“To spread the good news of Messiah in Israel.”

“And through whom was this command of God delivered to you.”

“Through Messiah himself, when he revealed himself to us after his death.”

“After his death?”

“Yes. God raised him from the dead.”

One of the priests muttered impatiently to Annas, “Don’t you see you’re dealing with stupid and ignorant people. Only stupid people talk of resurrections.”

And another priest added, “We have the Pharisees to thank for this. This is the harvest of their sowing.”

As the High Priests, past, present, and future, gazed intently at the fisherman, Simon did not shrink, and they still didn’t know if it was fearless simplicity, or the boldness of cunning. Whichever it was, they knew this scene could be prolonged no longer, for with each passing minute their standing fell lower and lower with their own servants.

Old Annas kept his voice even and friendly, at least on the surface, as he said, “You may go, good people. You are free both to preach and to continue in your good deeds. But bear in mind what I’ve said. Do not mention the name of that man again, or we shall be forced to take measures against you, and it would not be to our liking to deal harshly with honest, pious, and god-fearing people such as you are. You will remember, will you not?”

“We shall do as God has commanded us,” answered Simon from the door. “For it isn’t proper to place man’s command above God’s”

* * * * *

When John and Simon came out of the High Priest’s office, Simon fell on his knees, lifted his arms to heaven, and exclaimed, “I thank You, O God, for the strength you gave me in the hour of trial.”

When he stood up he saw that he was facing the exact spot by the well where he’d denied his rabbi on that memorable night.