“We have brought Paul from Tarsus to join us,” he continued, “because we are sure the time has come to carry the teachings of Jesus to men everywhere. If Peter and the elders in Jerusalem approve, Paul and I will set out on a journey, first to my home island of Cyprus and thence to Tarsus, where we plan to take the Via Augusta to the cities of the Lycaonian plains and the highlands. If that venture is successful, we might even go as far as Ephesus.”
Walking back to the insula, Probus said, “I have been talking to Paul lately, Luke. What do you think of his story of how the Lord spoke to him on the road to Damascus?”
“It could have been true. If you admit that Jesus is the resurrected Son of God, as the Christians do.”
“But if Jesus was just an extraordinarily wise and good teacher instead of a divine being, then what Paul heard must have been a hallucination. You know the sort of things people imagine they see while in a trance.”
“I had thought of that,” Luke admitted. “Why are you so concerned with Paul’s visions?”
“I have been studying what Barnabas likes to call the Christian religion. The teachings of Jesus are easy to believe, but not the resurrection. And because I do believe so strongly in the principles that Jesus preached, I hate to see them imperiled by discord.”
“Do you mean with Herod Agrippa?”
“With Herod, yes. He is the first king of all the Jews for several generations and certainly is ambitious for all the power he can get. But there is something else. You heard Barnabas say tonight that the mantle of the Lord had descended upon Peter and they look on him as something of another messiah.”
“When you meet him you will understand their feeling,” Luke interposed.
“But Paul believes God singled him out on the road to Damascus to be the personal representative of Jesus Christ on earth.”
“Then one of them must give way to the other,” Luke observed.
“It will not be Paul, you can be sure of that. One reason why Barnabas is so anxious to take Paul to Jerusalem is to arrange an agreement whereby Peter will preach to the Jews and be their leaders, while Barnabas and Paul do the same for the Gentiles.”
“Do you think such an arrangement would work?” Probus shrugged. “There is an old Greek parable—you should know it.”
“United we stand, divided we fall.” Yes, he did know it. And he wondered just how much it was going to apply to this fledgling faith which had so much to offer to the world if the humans within it did not forget the teachings of the meek and lonely Man who founded it and gave His life on the cross that it might be known to every man.
II
Luke visited Paul daily at the home of Barnabas and soon formed the habit of dropping in at the small surgery-apothecary shop which Probus had opened. There he gave his knowledge and skill to those who could not have afforded his services otherwise. Gradually he found himself spending more and more time on the south side of the river Orontes and less on the north, where his rich clients lived. He was finding in the new work a happiness and satisfaction he had not known since his early days as a student at Pergamum, for now he was fulfilling the real duty of a physician, ministering to the truly sick for whom his knowledge and the skill of his gentle hands might mean the difference between life and death.
Even more satisfying to Luke was the contact with the men who formed the nucleus of the thriving Christian Church in Antioch. They came from all walks of life, from several races and creeds, but all ministered to the sick and poor, working at their several occupations to earn bread for themselves and their families, and giving the rest of their time to the needs of the Church. It took deep convictions and an abiding faith, Luke recognized, for men of so varied backgrounds and interests to submerge their own personalities and ambitions to the greater one of making known the teachings and principles of Jesus.
As Luke had predicted, Paul was much better in ten days, and by the end of the second week the dynamic tentmaker was able to be up part of the day. Luke could not help noticing what Probus had mentioned, Paul’s firm conviction that God had chosen him personally for a divine purpose, speaking to him from the heavens and striking him blind as a token of the truth of the visitation. But Paul burned with an even greater conviction of the imminent return of Jesus to set up His kingdom. All else, the normal activities of life other than those necessary for survival, he thought should be subordinated to the single fact of Jesus’ coming from heaven to reign on earth.
Toward the end of the second week of Paul’s illness Luke was leaving the house late one night when Barnabas, who was reading in the front room, called to him. The red-haired man put down a worn scroll. “You are staying late tonight, Luke,” he observed.
“Paul and I have been arguing again.”
“About the scroll, and Simon Peter, and the things which happened on the road to Damascus?”
Luke smiled. “Our voices must have been louder than we thought.”
“Paul will give in to no one who questions the truths he believes in. But I am sure that the teachings of Jesus can stand up under any examination. I had troubling word from a ship that touched at Joppa recently, Luke,” Barnabas continued more seriously. “Herod Agrippa may arrest Peter and the elders before we can get their sanction for Paul and myself to begin our missionary journey.”
“Paul should be able to travel in another week.”
“We should go sooner,” Barnabas said with a worried frown. “Paul is very important to the Lord’s work, Luke; we are all sure of that here. But Jerusalem is a long way from Antioch, and we need to convince Peter and the elders that we should carry the word to the Gentiles. Besides, Manaen knew Herod as a boy; we hope he may have some influence on the king.” Barnabas leaned forward. “If it is necessary for us to leave before Paul is completely well, Luke, would you come with us?”
Luke was startled by the request. Before he could answer, Barnabas went on, “This is not just an impulse, Luke. Since you have been helping us here below the river I have realized what a powerful influence for Christ a really dedicated physician can be. Tell me, is it not true that you are really happier down here with us than up there on the insula?”
“Yes, I am,” Luke admitted. And in truth these past few months were the happiest and most rewarding ones in his memory.
“I wonder if it isn’t because your conscience tells you that you were prostituting a great life-giving talent by wasting it on the rich, when the poor need men like you so badly.” Barnabas took up the worn scroll he had been reading. “Listen to this, Luke. It is called the ‘Prayer of a Physician’ and is from the ancient writings of the Jewish people:
“O stand by me, my God, in this truly important task;
Grant me success! For—
Without Thy loving counsel and support,
Man can avail but naught.
Inspire me with true love for this my art
And for Thy creatures,
O grant—
That neither greed nor gain, nor thirst for fame, nor vain ambition,
May interfere with my activity.
For these I know are enemies of Truth and Love of men,
And might beguile one in profession
From furthering the welfare of Thy creatures.
O strengthen me.
Grant energy unto both body and soul
That I might e’er unhindered ready be,
To mitigate the woes,
Sustain and help
The rich and poor, the good and bad, enemy and friend.
O let me e’er behold in the afflicted and suffering,
Only the human being.
Barnabas laid down the scroll. “I think you already live closer to these precepts than many of us, Luke, and to what Jesus taught as well. That is why I did not mind asking you to come to Jerusalem with us.”
“I will go,” Luke agreed. Th
en he added, “And after tonight I have a strange feeling that if you had not invited me I would have asked you myself.”
Theophilus was still reading in the atrium when Luke reached the palace. He listened gravely while Luke told him of his plans to go to Jerusalem. “My only advice to you is to be careful in Jerusalem,” he said. “Herod has strong nationalistic designs, and it is no secret that he controls the Jewish people through their high priest! He has already refused to comply with Gallio’s recommendations that these people you call Christians be let go in peace, so there will be trouble between the Jews and Christians in Jerusalem as long as Herod Agrippa sits on the throne.”
“I shall have nothing to do with political controversy,” Luke protested. “I am going merely as a physician.”
Theophilus smiled. “You were only a youth when you traveled with me nearly six years ago, but you managed to become very much involved with those people then. Neither Petronius, the governor, nor myself has been blind to your association with the Christians,” the jurist continued. “I do not object to what you are doing, but remember that the lines between classes in a city are almost as definite as the boundaries between countries. Soon you may be forced to decide where your real loyalty will lie, either above the Orontes or below.”
“What would you advise, sir?”
Theophilus went to the window and stood looking out upon the great city below. “A year, perhaps as little as six months, ago I would have been sure of the answer,” he admitted. “But since then my son has married a Jewess, a race which as a Roman I was taught to despise. The proudest blood of the empire runs in my veins and that of Apollonius, but the future mother of my grandchildren is the daughter of a weaver. Yet I found in the home of Ananias a joy and a pride and a strength of purpose that I had never known before.”
He came back from the window and put an arm about the younger man’s shoulders. “I am beginning to have some inkling now of the source from which springs the joy these Christians seem to have found in what is otherwise pretty much of a joyless world, Luke. I shall not tell you the way you should go. Perhaps a higher force really does guide our individual destinies, a force which we must all obey, although often without understanding. Every man must travel the road that leads to his own particular destiny; may your steps be firm and strong. Good night, my son.”
A few days later Luke stood in the bow of the small coasting smack which was carrying them southward to Joppa and Jerusalem. The wharves of Seleucia and the white houses upon the hillsides at the mouth of the Orontes made a lovely picture as they faded into the late afternoon haze. Luke’s eyes were turned to the west, where the sun was poised in a bower of scarlet-lined clouds before its plunge into the sea. There had been another day, another time, like this when he and Silvanus had climbed the steps leading to the tower of the fortress of Antonia guarding the same city of Jerusalem to which he was going. Then, too, the sun had been low in the west. And then, too, a star had begun to twinkle already. “Where does this Jewish God dwell, Silvanus?” he had asked mockingly. And the centurion had answered, “They set him so far above all others as to place his dwelling in the sky.” The glory of the setting sun, Luke thought now, did indeed befit the dwelling place of a god who should be above both earth and sky.
“You are pensive, Luke,” a familiar voice said beside him. “Is it that you are so reluctant to leave Antioch?”
He made a place for Barnabas. “No. I was just thinking that if you believe your God, Jehovah, dwells in the sky, yonder sunset must be in his honor.”
Barnabas smiled. “Listen to this. It is part of a song written by David in praise of God:
“When I consider Your heavens, the work of Your fingers,
The moon and the stars, which You have ordained,
What is man that You are mindful of him,
And the son of man that You visit him?
For You have made him a little lower than the angels,
And You have crowned him with glory and honor.
You have made him to have dominion over the works of Your hands;
You have put all things under his feet.”
“I can understand how your King David was moved to write such a tribute,” Luke admitted. “It is hard to see how the heavens and the earth, the moon and the stars, could have been created without the hand of some all-powerful being.”
“Then you must believe in a god who is above everything.”
“Yes,” Luke said with a new feeling of conviction that was like coming from darkness into light. “I do know it now.”
“It makes me very happy to hear you say that, Luke,” Barnabas said warmly. “Now you are truly a Christian.”
“But I do not yet accept that Christ is the Son of God,” Luke protested. “Or that He rose from the dead. Those are things you Christians believe.”
“Yes, we do believe them,” Barnabas said gently. “But it is also important that Jesus’ followers live rightly and love and respect their fellow man, which is the way of Christ. These are also the words of God to guide men, as revealed to Micah, one of our ancient prophets: ‘He has shown you, O man, what is good; and what does the LORD require of you but to do justly, to love mercy, and to walk humbly with your God?’ Those who receive Jesus as their Savior and follow God’s precepts are truly Christians.”
III
Approaching Jerusalem from Joppa, the seaport which gave access to the Holy City of the Jews, Luke could see little change in the five years since he had last visited it. The three towers of Hippicus, Phasael, and Mariamne still ornamented the walls, and the great white temple of Jehovah shone with dazzling glory upon its hill across a narrow valley from the grim fortress of Antonia, symbol of the might of the empire. As usual the city teemed with people of all races, and all the tongues of the empire could be heard in its streets.
Over the temple hung the eternal smoke of the sacrifices, and dimly from across the Vale of Kedron came the sound of clashing cymbals and the chanting of the Levites as they marched in the ritual processions. To the north of the temple the sun glinted from the metal corselets of the eternally watchful Roman guards atop the Antonia. Behind the temple lay the Upper City of the wealthy, its beautiful terraces and magnificent villas in sharp contrast with the mud-daubed houses of the poor which dotted the hillsides and spread out far beyond the gates of the city.
Vying with the glory of the temple were the marble walls of the palace of the high priest and of the Maccabees, but dwarfing everything save the Sanctuary itself was the magnificent palace of Herod Agrippa, King of the Jews. In the center of the business district of the Tyropoean, with its bazaars and shops, stood the Hippodrome built by another Herod, an abomination in this city of Jehovah which the older Jews still resented as a symbol of the subservience of their King to the heathen emperor at Rome.
The Christian sect in Jerusalem—although not yet called by that name as they were in Antioch—was centered around the house of James, the brother of Jesus, who had become patriarch of the new faith. As in Antioch, a nearby synagogue was used by them as a church. Located in the poorer section of the city—for the teachings of Jesus inevitably appealed more to the poor than to the rich—it was an unimpressive building in keeping with the simple living habits of those who followed Jesus. The travelers were welcomed by James himself, a slender bearded man with kind eyes and a look of humility. When Luke was introduced as a physician, he said, “There is much sickness in Jerusalem because of the famine. Your skill can be put to a good use in the service of Christ.” Then he turned to Paul. “And a friend of yours is here, Paul. His name is Glaucus.”
“Glaucus of Iconium?”
“Yes. He became ill while on a pilgrimage of Jerusalem.”
“Is his daughter with him?” Paul asked eagerly.
“Thecla? Yes, she is here. They are both in the other room.”
Paul left the room at once, which surpris
ed Luke, for James was giving them an account of the recent troubles in Jerusalem. It was disquieting news, for Herod Agrippa had finally dared to kill one of the twelve disciples. James, the brother of John, a gentle man whom Jesus loved, had been arrested, but was killed, Herod claimed, while resisting arrest. No one who had known the gentle disciple believed he had resisted, however, and all understood that Herod was using this method to destroy the followers of Jesus without a trial, which would reveal the lack of grounds for his actions.
“What of Peter?” Barnabas asked James.
“We expect to hear of his arrest hourly,” the patriarch told them. “Herod has sworn to kill Peter, but he continues to preach everywhere that Jesus came to save Gentiles as well as Jews since his vision and conversion of the centurion Cornelius in Caesarea.”
“Is this Cornelius of the Italian band?” Luke asked. The Italian band was a famous cohort, and Cornelius came from one of the greatest houses in the empire.
“Yes, I believe he is,” James said. “Do you know him, Luke?”
“There was a commander of the guard in Antioch many years ago named Cornelius who was also of the Italian band. It is probably the same.”
Just then a young man came into the room. He broke into a glad cry at the sight of Barnabas, and the two embraced. Barnabas turned to Luke and the others. “This is John Mark, the son of my sister,” he said proudly. “He serves as a scribe to Simon Peter.”
Mark was young, about eighteen, Luke judged. He was a handsome youth, with dark hair, sparkling brown eyes, and a friendly manner. Shorter than Luke, he had small hands and feet and an infectious enthusiasm in his manner. “I have heard Peter speak of a youth called Luke,” he said. “He carried the scroll containing the sayings of Jesus safely away from Saul when he killed Stephen.”
“I am the same Luke,” the young physician admitted.
None of them knew that Paul had come into the room until Luke heard his sharp intake of breath at Mark’s words. He saw Paul staring at Mark with a strange expression, a look of both hurt and anger, as if he did not like having his part in the death of Stephen remarked upon. It only lasted a moment, however, then Barnabas introduced his nephew to Paul. Mark flushed when he realized that Paul must have overheard him, but before he could say anything in apology Paul turned abruptly to Luke. “I have promised my old friend Glaucus that you will attend him at once, Luke,” he said. It was more an order than a point of information.
The Road to Bithynia: A Novel of Luke, the Beloved Physician Page 19