Sergius turned back to the astrologer. “Tell the Jews that I will examine this man Paul and see if he speaks contrary to Roman law,” he directed.
“Are these men of the group from Antioch?” Elymas asked.
“The stars should tell you that,” Probus said sarcastically. “Why not consult them?”
The long fingers of the magician curled as if he were wishing them at the apothecary’s throat. “The priests of Aphrodite complain against these, men too, noble Sergius,” he said. “This Paul is preaching that Aphrodite is a mockery and that Jesus will triumph over her.”
Sergius frowned. From his viewpoint this was a more serious matter, for while the Jews were small in number, the priests were very powerful. According to tradition, the divine beauty had risen from the sea on the very shores of the older city some two miles away, where the great Temple of Aphrodite was located. Poets since Homer had sung of the worship of Aphrodite at Paphos, and models in silver of the mysterious goddess were almost as much in demand here as were the images of Artemis produced by the silversmiths of Ephesus. The opinions of the powerful priests of Aphrodite could not long be ignored by a Roman governor who wished to keep peace in his districts.
“You may assure the priests that I will personally examine this Paul at once,” Sergius told the astrologer again. “If he is breaking the law, he will be restrained.”
The summons for Paul to appear before the proconsul came the next day, and he departed for the palace in high spirits, confident that he would be able to turn Sergius Paulus to Christ. The interview was a long one, and Paul returned with the news that Sergius had received him well, had listened intently, and been favorably impressed. The proconsul had not committed himself, however, and that evening a message came asking Luke to come to the palace. Sergius was having a mild flare-up of his gout, and while Luke was relieving some of the pain by applying leeches the Roman official said, “I was much impressed by Paul this morning, Luke. In fact, I am strongly tempted to believe in Jesus myself.”
“His Way is the best rule of life for all men,” Luke said. “I am sure of that.”
“I think you are right. But I find it hard to accept Paul’s belief in the resurrection of Jesus. Tell me something of your own experience with this faith, Luke.”
Luke recounted to him the now familiar story, including the seemingly miraculous series of events which had culminated in the death of Herod Agrippa at Caesarea.
“Do you believe that Jesus is the Son of God?” Sergius asked.
“At first I did not,” Luke admitted, “although I have always believed in His Way. Now, however, I am not so sure.” And he went on to tell Sergius about what he had learned from Mark and Peter concerning the resurrection of Jesus.
“The evidence is strong,” the Roman admitted. “Still, one thing worries me. Paul seems to believe that Jesus will actually return to earth in the flesh to rule over the Jews and all who believe in Him.”
“He does,” Luke agreed. “Although I think he is wrong.”
“I am first of all an official of Rome, Luke,” Sergius pointed out. “If I did not believe as you do that the kingdom of Jesus is within man’s soul, I would have to order Paul to leave Cyprus. Will you talk to him and warn him that so long as he preaches such a doctrine there is going to be trouble?”
“I can try,” Luke promised, but he was already certain that the attempt would fail, for Paul rarely ever listened to him anymore.
When Luke told Paul and Barnabas of his conversation with Sergius, Paul’s eyes began to burn with the same stubborn light that had been in them often lately where Luke was concerned. “Sergius is sincere, Paul,” Luke pleaded in conclusion. “He is very near to Jesus and is thinking of your welfare. Besides, what good will you accomplish if you force the Romans to arrest you?”
“Luke is right, Paul,” Barnabas urged. “Try to see his point of view.”
“The kingdom of Christ is at stake,” Paul said flatly. “I must preach what I believe, nothing more, nothing less.”
“But Jesus could have meant a kingdom of the spirit,” Luke protested. “His words can be interpreted just as easily that way as any other.”
“Who are you to interpret the words of Jesus, Luke?” Paul asked sharply. “Has God spoken to you as He did to me? Have you been singled out to spread the truth abroad?”
Slowly Luke shook his head. “No, Paul. I have not.”
“Do not set yourself up then as a spokesman for Jesus. Only those called by Him personally are His representatives on earth.” Paul turned abruptly and left the room, putting an end to the discussion.
Barnabas saw the hurt in Luke’s eyes. “Do not think too hard of Paul,” he begged. “There will be times when we will all be hurt in our hearts and perhaps in our bodies for Paul’s sake. But he is the pillar of fire which will lead men everywhere to Christ, Luke. You and I and the rest must keep that fire burning, at no matter what cost to ourselves.”
II
The proconsul’s prediction of trouble for Paul became reality much sooner than any of them expected. Probus brought word of it to Luke and Mark a few days later. “Elymas has challenged Paul to a public test of the power of Jehovah over Aphrodite,” he reported.
“Surely Paul didn’t accept,” Luke said. “It is a trap.”
“Of course it is a trap,” Probus agreed. “But Paul fell into it, nevertheless. And they planned it carefully. Elymas is a magician, and the priests are accomplished at all sorts of deceptions. They set the time for tomorrow, when there is a feast day at the temple and a large crowd will be present. Thousands of people will see them make a fool of Paul.”
“Perhaps God will give them a real miracle,” Mark suggested.
Probus shook his head. “We can’t wait for that. We must do something ourselves.”
“Perhaps Barnabas could persuade Paul not to go through with it,” Luke suggested.
“He has to do it,” Probus stated flatly, “or be driven from the city. Sergius agreed to watch the test after Paul accepted the challenge.”
“But why would Paul get into such a mess?” Luke asked.
Probus shrugged. “Paul is so certain he is the personal representative of God on earth that he really believes he can do anything. If he fails tomorrow, it will be the end of Paul with the pagans, for word of this will spread through the empire.”
Suddenly Luke had an inspiration. “Why not fight fire with fire, Probus?” he cried. “You are something of a magician yourself. Can’t you work feats of deception equal to those of the priests?”
The apothecary’s eyes began to gleam. “That may be the answer,” he said thoughtfully. “The ground would be of their own choosing, but it would still be worth a trial. And I would like to best that charlatan Elymas in a battle of wits.”
Early in the morning long lines of people were moving along the road leading from the city to the great white Temple of Aphrodite some two miles back from the seashore. An hour before the zenith, when the test was to take place, a great crowd had gathered before the temple. The proconsul was present in a box built for him on the steps of the temple, and a guard of Roman soldiers escorted the Christians through the crowd. Paul paid no attention to the curses yelled at him by both Jews and pagans as he walked between two brawny soldiers, his eyes straight ahead, with Probus just behind him. The apothecary carried no equipment, but Luke noticed that instead of his usual toga and cloak Probus now wore a loose robe, belted at the waist, similar to the ones affected by Persian magicians and conjurers. His eyes were red, as if he had not slept, and Luke knew that he had spent the night watching the temple and the preparations of the priests. He seemed quite confident of the outcome, a feeling that Luke was far from sharing.
A surge of interest went through the crowd as the Christians were ushered up to one of the lower landings in front of the sacred buildings of the goddess. Shrewdly realizing th
at the crowd would be far too large to be accommodated inside the temple, the priests had chosen to accomplish their expected triumph in the open where everyone could see. Here, close to the box of Sergius, they had built a small altar around which a square was roped off. The Christians were ushered into this reserved space, and the guards deployed around it, obviously to protect them from the crowd.
Luke studied the altar, seeking some clue to its use. It stood about waist high and was some two feet square at the top, which appeared to have been made of two sheets of metal, with a narrow crack where they joined. The metal shone like gold in the sun, and he recognized it as copper. The mines along the north shore of the island supplied this metal to much of the Roman world. Upon the copper plates of the altar a small pile of kindling and wood shavings had been placed, as if awaiting the application of a ritual torch.
Suddenly the sound of flutes and cymbals floated from the temple itself, heralding the beginning of the test, and from one of the side doors a colorful procession emerged. The great golden gate remained closed, but down the steps before it marched the musicians, followed by a procession of the famed temple dancing girls. Their nearly nude bodies were revealed rather than concealed by their diaphanous garments, and a great “Ahh” of appreciation went up from the crowd as they deployed upon the broad marble landing before the small altar and began a sensuous dance of adoration to a glittering silver image of the goddess borne by white-robed priests. When the dance was finished, the girls sank to the marble steps in a semicircle of graceful human statues around the image of the goddess and the altar before her.
Trumpets blared once more, and a file of priests descended the steps to the altar, wearing richly jeweled robes and carrying the golden instruments of worship. Beside the chief priest was the magician Elymas in his tall conical cap and elaborately decorated robe. Both Elymas and the chief priest carried themselves arrogantly, as if sure of their triumph. And indeed the little band of Christians did look impotent before all this splendor.
Elymas raised his hands and a hush fell over the crowd. “People of Cyprus”—his voice boomed out over the crowd—“men have come among you preaching false gods, saying that another will rule, setting aside the power of Rome, to which we give our allegiance.”
A roar of displeasure went up from the crowd, for the Romans had been kind to the island, furnishing a ready market for copper from the mines and building roads so that the inhabitants could move easily from place to place.
“The city of Paphos and the Island of Cyprus owe much to the benevolence of the divine goddess Aphrodite, before whose glorious temple we now stand,” Elymas continued. “Now these men come preaching that a false god they call Christos will destroy the goddess.”
A louder roar of displeasure rose from the crowd. The worship of Aphrodite, most dissolute of divinities, was attended with all manner of vice, and the city profited hugely from the many pilgrims who came to witness the sensuous rites of the temple.
“Fear not, people of Paphos,” Elymas’s voice continued. “For the guardians of the divine goddess will not let these usurpers go unmasked. These priests of a false god have been challenged to show their power here on the very steps of the Temple of Aphrodite. I demand, in the name of the divine goddess, that they equal the feats which her priest will perform here in her honor or be driven from the land with whips.”
The sorcerer now turned to the small altar with its shining top of copper and the pile of tinder and shavings resting upon it. The sun was shining brightly, and in his tall cap and gaudily decorated robe Elymas was the very personification of evil. The fat chief priest moved closer to the altar and began to chant in a deep voice: “O Divine Aphrodite! Most beautiful of goddesses! Grant us a sign of your favor this day that we may know you are powerful over all false gods.” At the same time the dancing girls began their sensuous weaving before the altar.
“Keep your eyes on Elymas,” Probus warned in a whisper. “The crowd will be watching the priest and the dancers.”
Luke saw the sorcerer unobtrusively take a small flask from his robe. It was an exquisite sample of the glass blower’s art, filled with water or some liquid so clear that as Elymas held the flask cupped in his hands only those close to him could see it. Luke knew that fires could be lighted with a bit of glass, but he had never seen a flask of liquid so used before. Beside him Probus whispered, “The flask will concentrate the rays of the sun; watch how he does it.”
Elymas held the flask in his hands, moving it about until the burning rays of the midday sun were concentrated upon the pile of shavings. Few in the crowd were watching him, however, for their attention was centered upon the priests as they went through the ritual of adoration to the silver image of Aphrodite and upon the semi-nude temple girls winding about the altar in sinuous rhythm. Suddenly, where the tiny spot of the sun’s rays was centered upon the inflammable tinder, a tiny curl of smoke arose in the still air. And as the priests finished their chant and the dancing girls sank to the marble pavement, a small flame appeared. Consuming the tinder greedily, it leaped up in a crackling burst of fiery tongues.
A deep roar of astonishment came from the crowd at the seemingly miraculous lighting of the fire. Elymas raised his hands and boomed out in triumph, “The goddess has spoken! Death to the priests of the false god!”
In the excitement, no one noticed when Probus took something from his loose robe and cupped it in his hands, as Elymas had done the flask. But when a spot of deepest green light appeared on the sorcerer’s tall cap, Luke recognized the great emerald from the temple at Pergamum which Probus had carried with him since their departure. The strange green light with its glowing center, appearing suddenly and seemingly by supernatural means upon the tall hat of the sorcerer as Probus concentrated the sun’s rays there, caught the attention of those in the crowd near the altar, and a ripple of uneasiness went through them at this new phenomenon.
Exulting in the triumph of his stratagem, Elymas did not realize that anything was amiss until the change in tenor of the crowd’s attention brought him back to the present. Meanwhile the intense heat of hot sun concentrated upon the cap by the emerald charred the fabric covering. In the center of the smoking cloth a tiny flame appeared as the rolled-up cone of parchment inside it was ignited. Still not realizing what was happening, Elymas stared about him perplexedly until the heat from the burning cap reached his head. Then in sudden fear he tore it off and stamped upon the flaming parchment.
The crowd found its voice again now, but not in approval. Instead a roar of laughter shook the very stones of the temple, partly at the ludicrous figure of the now much shortened sorcerer stamping upon the flaming cap, and partly in relief from the fear which had gripped them at the sight of the strange green light. Elymas was bested, Luke realized with a surge of exultation, bested at his own game. Beside him John Mark was jumping up and down excitedly, slapping Probus on the back.
But their triumph was short-lived for a sudden “Ahh!” of interest from the crowd warned that something else had happened. In common with the crowd Luke’s eyes were drawn to the great golden gates of the temple. They had been closed throughout the dramatic scene upon the steps, but now they were opening slowly, moved by no visible agent. The faces of the crowd reflected awe and fear, and the momentary triumph of the Christians was forgotten in the face of this new revelation of the power of Aphrodite.
“Hail, Aphrodite!” the chief priest shouted, recovering his composure. The crowd took up the cry in a rousing cheer that thundered against the temple and echoed through the vale in which it stood.
“Hail, Aphrodite! Queen of the gods!” The shout rose again and again.
“Remember the Mithraeum at Antioch, Luke?” Probus whispered quickly. “There is a pig’s bladder filled with air beneath the copper bottom of the altar. The flames have expanded the air and moved a set of levers which opened the gates.”
Luke nodded, but the knowled
ge brought no assurance. He wondered if he could move quickly enough to push against the altar and possibly turn it over, revealing the mechanism inside it. But it seemed strongly built, and he was sure that the priests would be able to restrain him before he accomplished his aim.
“Aphrodite defies all false gods!” the chief priest boomed out over the crowd. “If your god is strong, you false priests, let him now close the gates and we will fall down and worship him.”
Paul had remained immobile through the exciting happenings as if waiting for something. Now he stepped upon the marble platform and faced the sorcerer and the chief priest. “O full of all subtlety and all mischief!” he shouted angrily. “You children of the devil! You enemies of righteousness! When will you cease to pervert the ways of the living God whom we serve? If God wills, He can smite yonder gates so that they will close at His will!”
Elymas was quick to seize the opportunity afforded by Paul’s words. “Let your god close the gates!” he shouted exultantly. “It is a test of strength between Aphrodite and the false god.”
Luke saw Probus step quickly to the altar. Just before it he seemed to stumble and fell against it, scattering the coals upon Elymas and the priests, who jumped back instinctively. In the confusion Luke saw the apothecary flick from his sleeve the long thin knife which he had carried in Caesarea when he had set out to kill Herod Agrippa. As he half lay across the altar Probus slipped the blade between the copper plates that formed the top of the altar. There was an audible popping sound as it pricked the distended pig’s bladder activating the mechanism of the gates. Elymas struck angrily at Probus, but the apothecary easily dodged the blow and quickly hid the knife in his flowing sleeve. A deep groan of stark fear came from the crowd then as the huge gates, no longer controlled by the bladder, began to swing slowly shut. While thousands watched in awe, they creaked together and once more closed the entrance to the temple.
Gibbering with terror, the fat chief priest fell to his knees before Paul, and the sorcerer reeled backward from the shock of this sudden reversal in their fortunes. “Elymas has been blinded by God!” Probus shouted, and Paul took up the cry also. “Behold, the hand of the Lord is upon him.”
The Road to Bithynia: A Novel of Luke, the Beloved Physician Page 26