Man in White

by Johnny Cash

  He slept soundly until the stars disappeared in the hole in the rock and the first light of early dawn turned the sky a dull gray. He climbed the stones above his rock-house and, finding a comfortable spot, sat and rested, facing toward Jerusalem and the Temple. From his perch he could see halfway across the Sinai wilderness, beyond which lay the Dead Sea, the mountains of Judea, and the Holy City.

  He knew the Voice would come again. Suddenly he could feel the warm presence, and he closed his eyes. The afterimage was there immediately, the outline of the Man in White against the backs of his eyelids. All feeling left his body, and he felt detached, floating.

  “Saul,” said the Voice.

  “Yes, Master,” he said.

  “Now I will show you the physical end of Temple worship in ritual and form, which the chosen fell into. You shall see the great extremities to which this nation is to be reduced. A remnant shall be saved, and the dispersed shall survive. The Father still loves his chosen, and through the chosen such as yourself shall my gospel be carried to the world. Thirty years you shall labor, and you shall carry my new testament to all men. Then it shall come to pass at about the same time that you finish your labors . . . Observe.”

  Saul listened expectantly, hardly breathing. He heard the sounds of battle first, then the afterimage slowly faded, and a picture terrible and sad appeared before his eyes; then as the scene enveloped him, he saw himself actually there, a part of it.

  His dream body walked through the burning city of Jerusalem. It was totally destroyed, its magnificent walls torn down and lying in heaps in the valleys around the city. The Romans had fully accomplished the job. The dead filled the streets, and the few living were the very old and the very young.

  The Temple itself was the most abominable place of all. Human and animal carcasses lay rotting in the holy courts. Roman soldiers staggered through the Temple courts, drunk from the confiscated wine. Vessels and utensils of gold and silver as well as holy brazen ornaments were stolen and carried off. The Temple treasury was broken into and its hoards taken away.

  The sacred oil that had been kept by the priests was poured out on the ground. Priests lay dead on the altar in the Court of Israel, and the Temple veil was gone. The Holy of Holies was dark. No incense burned. The golden candlestick lay on the floor. A pack of dogs roamed the Court of Israel, tearing at animal and human carcasses.

  Saul was greatly troubled and cried out, “No! My people! My people!” His whole body shook with the weeping.

  The Comforter spoke to him then. “This is only the beginning of sorrows. See now the abomination of desolation.”

  Saul, in spirit, stood in the ruins of the Temple, in the Court of Israel near the spot where he had often made sacrifices. He watched as seven Jewish defectors were caught by the rebel leader Simon, and the few former priests who survived were summoned to the Temple altar. There the priests were forced to cut the throats of these seven men as they lay upon the altar.

  Then the Romans came again with their great battering rams to destroy what was left of the Temple. But the rebel leaders, in order to deny Rome the final victory, set fire to the Temple. A great conflagration followed, and the holy Temple fell.

  So, on the seventeenth day of the month of Tamuz, according to Daniel’s prediction, the daily offerings and sacrifices ceased. But had the Temple not been afire, there still would have been no sacrifices. There were no priests alive to offer them. Those who did not die of starvation or commit suicide were killed by the Romans.

  Saul was shown that the fiery holocaust raged for days. Just when it appeared that the fires would burn out, the winds changed and another section of the city burned. Sparks and flames shot high into the air. From any point in the length and breadth of the country, the smoke could be seen by day and the fires by night. Especially eerie were the nights when clouds covered the sky. Strange images reflected upon the clouds from the fires of Jerusalem.

  In the horror of the knowledge that this was the end of their city, of their country, and of their very lives, thousands of people professed to having seen visions in the clouds of horses and chariots, of great battling, of machines of war, of marching armies, of people in chains moving en masse along roads guarded by soldiers.

  Visions of scenes of crucifixion in the clouds were reported. These mirage-like tableaus, reflected and illuminated in the sky, were seen by Titus and his army, and after many, many days the news reached Rome that the gods smiled favorably upon Titus and the tenth legion.

  Caesar Vespasian, upon hearing of his son Titus’s triumph and the favorable omens shown by the gods in the clouds, declared that Titus (as well as he himself, since this favorable revelation had come during his reign) should be deified and that their status should stand in every city in the empire. Vespasian further suggested to Titus that the eagle standard of the tenth legion should be changed to a more appropriate emblem denoting Roman victory in Judea.

  As the vision continued in stark reality, Saul watched. Titus walked among the ruins of the Temple. No rains had come for weeks, and fires still smoldered in the many subterranean chambers of the compound. He stopped at the altar, which was badly damaged and polluted with the bones and refuse of animals and men. He laughed aloud as he thought of the new design for the standard of the tenth legion.

  Then in just a few days he marched over the Temple compound beneath the new standard carried by his soldiers. The image the banner bore symbolized total victory and ultimate abomination for any Jew who still lived to see it.

  It was modeled after the emblem that signified the origin of Rome, the bronze statue of the fabled infants Romulus and Remus being suckled by a she-wolf which stood in the forum at Milepost Number One in the eternal city.

  But Titus modified the images more than a little. Instead of a wolf, his legion’s standard now showed a sow suckling two pigs. Through the ashes and rubbish the standard-bearers marched three times daily at what had been the hours of prayer.

  At the place where the Most Holy Place had been, the soldiers stopped and waved their banner with its images of swine and shouted obscenities upon the God of the Jews. Then followed the drinking of wine and the pouring out upon the holy ground ablations to Jupiter and Mercury.

  Certain pieces of the Temple furniture and vessels had survived the fires intact and were being made ready to be transported across land and sea for the triumphal march into Rome. The table of shewbread, the laver, and the massive seven-branched golden candlestick were salvaged. Molten in the fierce heat, however, was ton upon ton of gold—the golden cornices, the sacrificial vessels, gold borders in the fine chambers, the gilt that was laid upon most of the doors and along hallways, and even priests’ garments made with golden thread. Most of the gold in the Temple treasury had melted, as well as the most massive layers of all—the golden strips, sheets, orbs, and moldings atop the Temple walls, parapets, and roofs.

  Being porous and very heavy, the precious metal had flowed in shining streams from the fire. The soldiers had watched it day and night, running in tiny streams and rivulets, seeking cracks and crevices where it disappeared. Nightly, as new fires broke out, the bright molten metal ran down from new heights to sink and disappear into new depths.

  Weary of battle and of Judea itself, Titus’s army made ready to return to Rome. An occupation force commanded by centurions laid out a camp in the middle of the city’s ruins.

  In the midst of the Romans’ preparing to depart, desert nomads began looting. A great number of them, working at night, managed to move one of the giant stones of the Court of Israel. Deep in the ground lining the sides of a foundation stone were great sheets of gold that had hardened as the fires had cooled.

  The looters were caught and executed. The spoils of war were brought before Titus. Sheets of gold that required twelve men to carry them were brought to show him the treasure recovered from the moving of only one stone. Titus gave the order: “Move every stone. Don’t leave one stone upon another.”When Saul heard these words,
he remembered Jesus’ prophecy.

  The entire tenth legion worked overtime collecting the spoils of war. The subterranean tunnels and chambers were stripped of their secret wealth. Great hoards of coins and precious bars of metal were discovered. Strips, fingers, balls, rods, nuggets, chunks, and sheets were brought forward as stone after great stone was moved and overturned. The soldiers were eager and anxious to return to Rome, and they worked furiously and thoroughly. The battering ram and the war machines were put into use.

  From where Titus had originally surveyed the city atop the Mount of Olives, he now gazed upon a startlingly different scene. Ten teams of oxen pulling their wagonloads of spoils moved slowly behind a long line of marching men. Mount Moriah, the Temple mount, was bare and devoid of any evidence that it had ever been inhabited. There showed no indication that any walls had ever existed on that smooth, rounded hill where the strongest walls in the history of the world had only recently stood.

  Not one stone was left upon another.

  Saul had been sitting with his eyes closed, seeing all this. The scenes were disappearing now, and he began to be aware of the rock he was sitting on. A scripture was coming to his mind, and the words formed an audible sound in his ears. It was from the sections of the scroll of Chronicles that had been partly eaten away by a rat that night in his room just before he had begun his persecuting. “This house which I have sanctified in my name will I cast out . . .”

  Then the Voice spoke to him directly. “Saul.”

  Slowly and weakly, he came out of his trance. “Yes, Master,” he said.

  “Arise,” he commanded.

  Saul walked to the edge of the cliff and looked out over the land. His vision was clear of the afterimage, but the presence was still there.

  “What would you have me do?” asked Saul.

  “Get down off this mountain,” said the Voice, “and be about my Father’s business.”

  Without a word of hesitation, Saul struck out, passing again under the Gateway to Heaven and beginning his descent.

  “Go into all the world,” said the Voice. “Preach the gospel and baptize them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. And I am with you always.”

  SEVEN

  THE FELLOWSHIP, AD 40

  As Saul skirted the Mount of Olives and the city and the Temple came into view, his heart leaped within him. Jerusalem, the Holy City, Jerusalem that slays her prophets. Jerusalem, O Jerusalem!

  His feet and legs ached, and he was very hot. He stopped beside the road at a spot where he had a good view of the city and sat down in the shade of a cedar tree. The tree, with its gnarled, scrawny branches, afforded little shade, but it would refresh him. He loosened the straps of his sandals and rubbed his feet. They were well calloused but ached sharply. He loosened his clothes and basked in the breeze that blew up from the Kidron. Memories flooded him, some sweet and some bitter.

  Far off the end of the valley there was the mountain where he had, upon returning to the city that day, seen the terrible crucifixion and had watched his friend Michael die. There below in the Kidron itself was the spot where Stephen had fallen. No remorse filled him, and he wondered at his own feelings. There a brother in the Lord had died at his own hand, and he felt at peace about the matter.

  The face of Stephen came back to his mind, and he understood fully the reasons God had for his martyrdom—a dying witness of the glories to come, a testimony of faith and devotion, an example of the ecstasy in the agony of suffering for the Lord. As the Lord himself gave his life for all, so did Stephen, and so did he especially give it for Saul. Stephen’s classic testimony before the Sanhedrin would always be fresh in Saul’s mind, and many times when called to the task he would use Stephen’s style in his own testimony.

  The magnificent Temple itself brought to mind many scenes in the life of his people. But the Temple heights with all the gold, bronze, and fine wood brought to mind a parable of the Lord: “bright and shiny outside, but full of corruption inside.”

  What a burden he had cast off—the Temple with its spiritual bondage. He felt a sense of freedom and elation he had never known before upon viewing the Temple. He would never speak of his vision of its destruction, but he was saddened in knowing what was to happen.

  And it was not without a little grief and awe that he looked upon this city of his forefathers, and not without a little yearning that he thought of the alienation of those who had been his warmest associates. Surely they would receive his testimony now! When the Pharisees, even Gamiliel, saw the miraculous change in him, knowing what a persecutor he had been, surely they would believe him. Yet as strongly as he wanted them to believe him, deep in his being he knew that they would not.

  Theophilus was now high priest, appointed by the Roman governor, Marcellus,who, to stay in favor with the emperor Caligula, placed a man in that position who would keep the peace by strict adherence to Rome’s demands.

  Saul knew that in the Temple he had lost all favor and that he was called a “turncoat.”Under Theophilus his arrest and trial would certainly mean his execution. The few friends he might have remaining in the Sanhedrin would most certainly be outvoted in his case. Still, he must see the Temple, must walk those halls and chambers again.

  As he strapped his sandals back on his feet, he thought of his sister, Sarah, and her family, the child Jacob and her husband. He smiled as he thought of Levi ben Lamech. I might not win him over, he thought, but at least he will not be able to deny the change in me that the love of the Lord has made.

  The hand of the giant water-clock adjacent to the Temple pointed to the sixth hour. Feeling suddenly like a stranger, Saul walked past the tower and up through the southern porch, then crossed the Court of the Gentiles. He had come here every day of his life since as a child he had come from Tarsus, but in a way he felt he had never been here before. His feet hurried across the large open area toward the Court of Israel, where he would go to pray, when suddenly he stopped. He had the feeling he was being followed. He turned and looked behind him, and as he did, a man stopped some distance away. Saul stared for a moment, then continued. Just as he approached the steps to the Court of Israel, he stopped and turned, and there was the man again, but closer.

  The follower did not stop this time but continued walking toward Saul. The man was barefoot and dressed in homespun. By his haircut, he was obviously a Greek.

  “Saul of Tarsus,” the man said. And his voice was familiar to Saul. More than familiar—the voice struck a sensitive nerve deep within his soul, for he recognized Barnabas the Cypriot, whom he had once confronted in the Synagogue of the Isles of the Sea.

  Saul didn’t speak at first; he just gazed into Barnabas’s eyes. Then his eyes dropped to the hollow of Barnabas’s neck, and he saw the ugly scar his own sword had made that night when he had disrupted the worship service.

  Barnabas smiled. “I recognized your walk, Saul. No one but you walks with such, uh . . . determination.”

  “Barnabas . . .” Saul groped for words at first, then put his hands on the man’s shoulders and looked deep into his smiling eyes. “It is strange that you are the first person I should see upon my return to Jerusalem.”

  “Yes,” said Barnabas. “Come and let’s sit in the shade of the colonnades and talk. I have heard many things of you since you left Jerusalem.”

  On the cool stone steps in the shade of Solomon’s Porch they sat and looked out across the sprawling Temple compound. At first neither spoke— there was so much to say.

  Barnabas started laughing, and Saul looked at him curiously. “You are a wanted man in this very Temple, yet here you sit unrecognized. But who would? I should think you look more like John the Baptist in your homespun robe and sandals than the fearsome Pharisee you were when you left here.”

  Saul smiled back. “Probably so.”

  Barnabas’s face clouded. “As you may have heard, a new man sits in the high priest’s seat. Theophilus ben Annas is quickly gaining favor with the
governor, Marcellus.”

  “I understand,” said Saul. “To stay in favor with Rome, a high priest must be more Roman than Jew.”

  “Yes, especially now,” said Barnabas. “The madman Gaius Caligula is on the throne, and already the Roman standards are displayed publicly in Caesarea and other cities. Terrible times are coming upon this city. Everyone is choosing sides.”

  Saul paused and looked evenly at Barnabas. “This concerns me personally, does it not?”

  “Yes,” said Barnabas. “The Sanhedrin declared you a traitor soon after the news arrived of your conversion at Damascus. If you are recognized by the priests and elders here, you will be arrested.”

  “And my trial and execution would soon follow,” said Saul. “I know the procedure well.”

  “You seem to have no fear,” said Barnabas.

  “My friend,” said Saul, “those who walk in the Law are mindful of things of the flesh. The new law of the spirit of life in Jesus has set me free from the Law of sin and death in the flesh.”

  “You have been gone a long time,” said Barnabas. “You must go with me to the house of Peter and meet your fellow workers in the Lord. And be prepared—most of them will fear you and will not believe that you are one of us.”

  “I long to show them I am,” Saul laughed. “I will go to the house of Peter, but first I must visit my sister. I have peace to make with her husband.”

  They stood and embraced. “Come soon,” said Barnabas. “I will try to pave the way for you.”

  Barnabas watched Saul walk toward the street. A man born anew, he thought. No longer a hawk, but an eagle with a dove’s heart.

  As Saul stood at Sarah’s door, she didn’t recognize him at first. Then she cried out and embraced him. “Saul, what has happened to you? You look like a beggar. It breaks my heart to see you this way.”