He was cut short by an old man who stood up among the rulers. “We want not your opinions, turncoat Jew!” he shouted angrily. “Go to the Gentiles!” And from all parts of the synagogue similar cries arose, some accusing Paul of blaspheming, others of defiling the synagogue by bringing Gentiles into it. Luke saw a look of stunned disbelief appear on Paul’s face. He seemed to falter a moment and put his hand upon the bench for support. For Paul, who prided himself upon his strict Jewish upbringing and his strict observance of the law, it was a terrible shock to be reviled in a Jewish synagogue with the ceremonial tallith upon his shoulders, and Luke could understand what a blow this must have been.
Fortunately Barnabas took command and saved Paul from bodily injury at the hands of the angry Jews. With his commanding presence Barnabas turned the attention of the congregation upon himself when he said in a loud voice, “God’s message had to be spoken to you Jews first, but since you continue to thrust it from you and since you show yourselves unworthy to receive eternal life, now and here we return to the heathen. For here are the orders which the Lord has given us, ‘I have set you as a light to the Gentiles, that you should be for salvation to the ends of the earth.’”
A hush fell over the congregation, for Barnabas was quoting from the prophet Isaiah, and they were familiar with the passage from frequent readings in the synagogues. Taking Paul by the arm, Barnabas urged him from the building; and, apparently stunned by the hostile reception from his own people, the apostle allowed himself to be led away.
The Gentiles who had been in the synagogue now rushed out, joining those outside in beseeching Paul to speak to them of Jesus. At this evidence of approval and interest the color began to come back into the apostle’s face and his eyes lit with something of their old fervor. When he began to speak, his voice soon regained its old dynamic magnetism.
The disapproval of the Jewish congregation was soon overshadowed by Paul’s tremendous appeal to the Gentiles. Crowds followed him everywhere, and hardly a day passed that many were not baptized. But as Luke continued his work among the poor he soon began to hear rumors of a plot to drive Paul and Barnabas from the city.
When Luke told Paul and Barnabas what he had heard, Paul was inclined to laugh it off. He was meeting with great success in Pisidian Antioch, and a huge mass was planned at the old site of the Camp of Mars for the following evening, when he would address thousands of people. The Jews, he argued, were only trying to scare him away; they would not dare to attack Roman citizens in a Roman colonia.
But Luke and Barnabas were not so certain as Paul of his safety and decided that Paul must never be without one or both of them at night, when any attack would almost certainly come. The next evening the three of them left the inn where they were staying, bound for the Camp of Mars, where the crowd was already beginning to gather. Many people were on the road that led by the river from the city to the camp, so they felt safe. Later, when they would be returning after the crowd had dispersed, the danger might become real.
The three of them were therefore taken completely by surprise while passing through a grove of trees when a dozen men in dark robes moved suddenly from the shadows. Before they could cry out for help, dark cloaks were thrown over their heads and they were carried back into the shadows, away from the road. There they were bound and gagged expertly, thrown into a waiting cart, their bodies covered with loose straw. As the vehicle moved along a connecting path toward the woods outside the city no one would have taken it for anything but a farmer’s cart.
Luke had heard of the Jewish punishment of whipping. Restricted by law to not more than forty lashes, it was customary to stop at the count of thirty-nine so as not to chance breaking the ancient rule. But thirty-nine lashes administered by angry men could be grievous torture, and more than one had died from them.
When the cart was well away from the city rough hands dragged them from it and lashed them to trees. Then their garments were ripped to the waists, leaving their backs bare. Luke braced himself at the whistle of a rawhide thong through the air and clenched his jaws tight to keep from screaming when the whip cut through his skin and brought blood on the first stroke. In waves of searing pain the agony increased, rising to a peak beyond which there seemed to be no bearing. Vaguely he realized that the warm fluid trickling down his back and pooling at the waist where his robe was girdled was his own blood. The torture seemed endless and his senses swam so that he lost all track of time, and the only reality was a hell of almost unbearable pain.
Finally the lashing stopped and Luke was dimly conscious of the dark forms melting into the woods and the cart being driven away. For a long time his body sagged against the ropes while he floated in and out of consciousness. The burning pain rippled through his back with every movement, but at last the strength of his young body began to overcome the shock and he was able to fumble at the cords which bound him to the tree. They were slippery with blood from his cruelly lacerated back, but he finally managed to loosen the ropes and step free.
In the darkness he could barely make out the figures of Paul and Barnabas lashed to other trees. Barnabas groaned and moved slightly, but Paul’s body was limp against the ropes. As leader of the expedition and target for the displeasure of the Jews, he had naturally taken the full fury of the beating. Sure that Paul must be dead. Luke felt for his pulse, but to his surprise the beat was perceptible, although faint. Gently he released the ropes that held Paul to the tree and eased his body to the ground.
Barnabas had regained consciousness now. “Is Paul dead, Luke?” he asked anxiously.
“He still lives,” Luke reported as he started to work on the cords that held Barnabas, “but his wounds are grievous.”
“Thank God! All is not lost then.”
“We must get Paul to a place of safety where his wounds can be dressed.”
“But where can we go?” Barnabas asked.
Luke felt for his purse and breathed a silent prayer of thanksgiving when he found it still at his belt. “I can go into the city and buy a mule and cart,” he said. “Then we can take Paul down by the lake somewhere; surely there will be a farmhouse where we can stay until his wounds are healed.”
All of this took time, and it was after dawn before they drove the rough cart Luke had purchased into the yard of a farmhouse and found that the owner had heard Paul’s preaching in Antioch and was glad to take them in. Paul was conscious by now, but still dazed, and badly in need of warmth and rest. Luke dressed his wounds with a soothing balm he had purchased in the city and administered a potion to bring on sleep. Then he treated the injuries of Barnabas and cared for his own wounds as best he could with the help of the farmer’s wife.
Luke was young and strong and his wounds healed quickly, as did those of Barnabas. But Paul was inclined to be sickly, his body constantly drained of its vigor by the demands of the intense spirit which burned within him as well as the recurring bouts of fever, and it was weeks before he was able to travel. Being a Greek, Luke was least likely to attract attention in a Greek city, so he was able to enter Antioch freely and talk to the leaders of the Gentiles who had been converted by Paul and instruct them to set up a church, elect officers, and go about spreading the gospel of Christ. So in spite of their ill treatment at the hands of the Jews, they at least had the satisfaction of seeing a strong group of Christians develop in Pisidian Antioch.
As was to be expected after such a terrible experience, Paul was listless and depressed. He did some work for the farmer, mending tents and weaving bags on the crude loom of the household, and in the evening the neighbors often gathered around while Paul spoke to them of Jesus. But the fire seemed to have gone out of Paul, and Luke worried more and more about it as the apostle’s visible wounds healed without any sign of healing for the grievous wound he had sustained in his spirit.
Thinking perhaps to stir Paul’s interest, Luke suggested that they go to the governor in the city and demand t
heir rights as Roman citizens by insisting that those who had persecuted them be punished. But Paul only shook his head. “It is only right that we should suffer for Christ’s sake,” he said. “Remember what He said in the scroll? ‘Blessed are you when they revile and persecute you, and say all kinds of evil against you falsely for My sake.’” Then he put his hand upon Luke’s shoulder. “Why do you follow me, Luke? When I revile you and let you suffer punishments you do not deserve?”
“It is my duty as a physician and a friend,” Luke said simply.
Paul smiled, and his face came alive again. “Jesus said, ‘Greater love has no one than this, than to lay down one’s life for his friends.’ But no one could ask of a physician that he share the dangers of those he treats. To me you will always be ‘the beloved physician,’ Luke, one who stood by me even at the risk of his own life.”
IV
Never had Luke seen a more bare and dreary region than the vast central plain of Galatia across which they traveled from Antioch to Iconium. Now, as they came down from the higher land to the northwest, their eyes were drawn to the startling mass of stone, which the natives called the “Black Mount,” rising precipitately from the plain as a rock might jut from the ocean, and silhouetted against the snowy tops of the mountains in the distance.
Iconium was a fairly large city, Luke saw as they rode through it, following the directions which Thecla had given him in Antioch for finding her home. His heart beat fast at the thought of seeing his beloved again, but when they reached the house they were told by the neighbors that Thecla and Glaucus had gone to Lystra, some fifty miles away, because of the illness of Thecla’s aunt. Paul wished to stay a few days in Iconium and preach in the synagogue on the Sabbath, but Luke was anxious to go on, so he joined a passing caravan, with the understanding that Paul and Barnabas would follow him a few days later.
He had been directed how to find the house of Eunice, Thecla’s aunt, by the neighbors in Iconium, and as he came along the dusty street beside it he saw Thecla cutting flowers in a low walled garden beside the house. Soundlessly he vaulted over the low wall and came up behind her before he spoke her name.
The girl stiffened, recognizing his voice, then turned, and with a cry of joy threw herself into his arms, heedless of anyone who might be passing on the street. When he kissed her lips, they were salty with her tears. For a long moment of utter rapture he held her in his arms without speaking, reveling in the thrill of having her close to him again.
“Why did you not come sooner, darling?” she asked after awhile. “I have been watching for you for months, it seems.”
“It will take days to tell you all that has happened,” be said. “Tell me about yourself and Glaucus.”
A shadow crossed her face. “Father is not well, Luke.
He tries to keep on teaching, but he is so weak that I am worried about him.”
Glaucus had indeed changed for the worse, Luke saw when they entered the house. There was the same gentle dignity and quiet intelligence in his face, but his skin was as pale as alabaster except for the faint flush of fever, as if the frail body were being consumed by a slow fire. As he watched Glaucus’s rapid breathing, the hacking cough, and the red stain upon the handkerchief that he put to his mouth, Luke’s trained senses made the diagnosis. An advanced phthisis, burning away the frail body as it consumed the lungs, was written there as plainly as in the works of Hippocrates.
While Luke was giving an account of his travels since Thecla and Glaucus had left him in Antioch, a boy of perhaps fourteen came into the room. He stooped shyly, and Thecla reached out to draw him to her. “This is Timotheus, usually called Timothy,” she told Luke. “He is the son of my aunt Eunice, whose house this is.”
Timothy smiled shyly and bowed courteously. He was a handsome young man Thecla had told Luke in Jerusalem that her aunt Eunice had married a well-to-do merchant of Lystra, only to be widowed when her son was about ten years old. Timothy sat on the floor at Luke’s feet while he continued his story, and when he told how they had bested the magician Elymas at Paphos, the young man’s eyes glowed with excitement. “Thecla has been telling me about Paul,” he said eagerly. “Is he coming here?”
When Luke said, “Yes, Timothy, Paul and Barnabas will be here in a few days,” the youth’s face lit up as if he had received a gift.
Eunice had recovered from the illness which had brought Glaucus and Thecla from Iconium, and the girl and her father had been on the point of returning home when Luke arrived, but they decided now to wait for Paul and Barnabas. The evening meal was in the nature of a feast of thanksgiving, both for Eunice’s recovery and for Luke’s arrival. There was much talk, and Luke and Thecla had no chance to be alone, but Luke’s heart was at peace just from being with Thecla again and feeling her love encompass him like a protecting garment. Afterward, when they did go into the garden for a few minutes to say good night, Thecla said, “Father is not going to be able to travel for a long time, dearest, if he ever does. After Antioch and Jerusalem, do you think you could be happy staying in Iconium until—until we know what is going to happen to him?”
Luke drew her to him. “Is that what is worrying you? I thought I saw a frown on that lovely forehead.”
“Then you wouldn’t mind?” she said anxiously.
“Do you have any idea how lonely and dull Antioch was after you left?” he asked. “A sheepherder’s hut would be heaven with you, and Rome a desert without you.”
She sighed then with utter happiness. “How foolish I was not to know that, Luke! I should have listened to my heart and not to reason.”
“We will both listen to our hearts from now on,” he promised.
Life was pleasant in Lystra; it was summer, the flowers were blooming in the garden, and Luke and Thecla were together. Eunice, Timothy’s mother, was a beautiful woman in her late fifties. Upon little Timothy had been centered all of the devotion of Eunice and her mother, Lois, who lived in the household, yet the boy had remained remarkably unspoiled and grown into a responsible young man. Timothy took Luke in charge while Thecla helped with the duties of the house. Proudly he pointed out the attractions of the small city: the Temple of Diana outside the gates, where by looking through a forbidden window one could see fat priests gorging themselves on meat from the sacrifices; the shops where sweetmeats were sold; the glowing forges of the silversmiths casting silver images of Diana to be sold during the ceremonies of pagan worship; the caves in the hills where the boys played at being robbers.
The people of Lystra were simple folk, peasants for the most part, as well as weavers, smiths, food and wine sellers, carpenters, builders, and a small number of scribes and clerks who were servants of Rome. There was none of the sophistication here that characterized the larger cities and little of the vice to be found in Rome, Alexandria, Antioch, Ephesus, and the other great population centers of the empire. The town contained no physicians of any competence, and so Luke was at first regarded with suspicion when he offered to treat the sick, since he healed in no one’s name except the science of medicine. But people quickly gained confidence in his kindness and skill, flocking to him daily for treatment.
Timothy had heard Luke say that Paul and Barnabas were coming to Lystra in a few days, and every afternoon he went to the outskirts of the city to look for them where the road from Iconium passed the Temple of Diana. It was almost a week later, however, that Timothy came running to the small surgery where Luke was treating the sick, shouting that the expected visitors had arrived.
Luke put down the scalpel with which he had been incising a boil. “Where are they?” he asked. “At your house?”
“No. They stopped at the big rock near the temple to preach. Now the people are preparing to worship them. I heard a man say that it was Jupiter and Mercury who had come to Lystra.”
Paul and Barnabas mistaken for heathen gods! It was a natural thing for these rude and unlettered people to do.
Farmers often looked for the gods to visit them in person to favor their crops, and many brought sick to the temple, hoping the gods would appear in person and heal them. But the same ignorance which could lead the people to mistake Paul and Barnabas for divine beings could also cause trouble when they were found to be mortal.
A crowd had gathered before the temple by the time Luke and Timothy reached it, and people were streaming from the city as word passed swiftly of the divine visit. Pushing through the crowd, Luke saw Paul standing on the big rock Timothy had mentioned, speaking to the crowd. From the Temple of Diana across the road a procession of priests was just emerging, carrying with them a silver image of Diana and trays laden high with offerings. Obviously it was their intention to ask the divine visitors to favor the city by dwelling for a while at least in the temple of their sister goddess.
Carried away as usual by the fervor of his preaching, Paul had not noticed the priestly procession, and Barnabas, standing on the ground at a lower level, was not able to see it. Luke tried to shout and attract Paul’s attention as he worked his way through the crowd with Timothy following close in his wake, but the noise of those about him drowned out his voice.
When finally Paul noticed the commotion before him, Luke was close enough to see him frown in bewilderment as the priests prostrated themselves before the rock, offering their gifts. “Sirs,” Paul asked, “why do you these things?”
The leading priest rose and held up his arms in supplication. “O Chief of Gods and Heavenly Messenger,” he intoned. “Come into the Temple of Diana that we may honor you with a worthy sacrifice.”
Paul stared at him in amazement. “Who do you think we are?”
“You are Mercury,” the priest said promptly. “And he whose beard flames like the sun can be none other than Jupiter, mightiest of all the gods.”
The Road to Bithynia: A Novel of Luke, the Beloved Physician Page 28