“But Paul has always worked wherever he went.”
“He still works daily at the shop of a tentmaker near the agora. Do you want to go and see him?”
Luke shook his head. “Not yet. I want to study the situation here first.”
“You will find Paul changed,” Probus warned. “Even his teachings are different.”
As they were walking to Probus’s home in the twilight, the apothecary said, “The people are crowding in for the games and the city looks prosperous now, but make no mistake about it, there is unrest and even want beneath it all. All the shopkeepers hate the Christians, but the silversmiths are the worst.”
“But men can carry on commerce and still follow the Way of Jesus,” Luke protested. “After all, He worked as a carpenter Himself and He certainly must have been paid for His work.”
“There is no real reason why commerce and the Christian faith should be in conflict,” Probus agreed, “but they will be so long as men want to make a profit to which they are not entitled by the labor they contribute to the product. Jesus said, ‘The laborer is worthy of his wages,’ but the employer seeks to pay him less than he is worth and the worker tries to get more.”
“The answer is still simple,” Luke pointed out. “When all men live according to the Way of Jesus, there will be no conflict, either in business or on the battlefield.”
When the children had been put to bed, Probus and Anna, Luke and Thecla sat talking.
“How is Paul?” Thecla asked the apothecary.
“His health has been exceptionally good,” Probus said, “but his teachings have become steadily more mystical and unreal, although I must confess that they seem to appeal to people even more than before.”
“I spoke of this to Barnabas in Antioch,” Luke said. “It seems like Paul is straying from the teachings of Jesus.”
“But Paul could be right,” Thecla said. “How do we know what will happen when Jesus returns to earth?”
“We must remember what we know about Jesus and the things He did and taught on earth,” Luke said. “If Jesus were to come again today, I believe He would be a simple carpenter or some such humble laborer as He was before. And I am sure He would go about again among the people, the poor as well as the rich, to remind them that all are equal in the sight of God, emperors with workmen, and princes with beggars.” He turned to Probus. “What do you think men seek in Jesus today?”
“Paul says eternal life, but I doubt if so many of us are concerned right now with what is going to happen when we die. I see the Way as a method of finding happiness in life.”
“And I,” Luke agreed. “But I would go further and try to find just how it brings us that happiness. For a long time I have wondered why so many people seem uncertain of themselves and go from one philosophy to another, even from one religion to another, searching for the answer to a question which they don’t seem to be able to put into words, as if they were afraid of something they cannot understand.”
“You can walk through the agora tomorrow and see that fear in a thousand faces,” Probus agreed. “But what are they afraid of?”
“Perhaps they are afraid they are not as important to the world, to themselves, and maybe to God, as they would like to be. They may be searching for something to give them a sense of value in themselves and in their work, the things that breed confidence and self-esteem.
“But it is a poor form of self-confidence that comes from getting the best of others in business,” Luke continued. “Or giving more to charity, and dressing in fine silks and linens. I remember, Probus, you once said that each of us is trying desperately to get ahead of the other so he can then try just as desperately to get ahead of the one over him.”
Probus nodded. “If you need proof, I can show you plenty here in Ephesus, even among those who profess to be Christians.”
“Then they are not true followers of Jesus,” Luke said. “To me the simple Teacher of Galilee has a message for the world which a Jesus who comes with power to rule over the earth could never have, but not through promising me that I shall live forever. As a lowly Nazarene, Jesus showed me that I am important in the sight of God as an individual, created in His image, and that I have a God of my own, whatever my station, not just the God of a people or a nation. Those who follow the real Way of Jesus will always have that confidence and can never be uncertain or afraid.”
Thecla put her hand upon his. “No one has ever stated the Way of Jesus more clearly than that, Luke. Maybe God intends for you to teach such truths to the people.”
“I am not eloquent like Paul,” Luke protested. “I can think these things, but if I spoke them, people would not listen.”
“Then you should write them down,” Probus said. “Paul has become so preoccupied with his position as the divinely elected apostle to the Gentiles and the mystical instructions which he claims God has revealed to him that it seems like he has almost forgotten the real teachings of Jesus.”
Looking around him on the following Sabbath at the crowd which filled the lecture hall of Tyrannus and spilled into the street outside, Luke could see that Ephesus had indeed proved one of Paul’s most successful ventures. Watching Paul stand in the pulpit and wait for the crowd to settle down for his sermon, Luke decided that the years had not dealt lightly with the apostle, even though they had been a period of success and accomplishment during which he had seen the Christian faith spread from this great center of Ephesus throughout the province of Asia. Paul’s face was lined and his shoulders drooped, as if from the weight of heavy responsibilities. His hair had thinned noticeably, but his head still had its leonine cast.
When Paul raised his hands it was with the same familiar gesture, as if he were taking them all into his embrace, that Luke had seen him use many times in Antioch. “Jesus Christ has made a covenant with us,” Paul said, “promising that He will return in glory upon a cloud. When a will is made, it is necessary that the death of him who makes it be proved; a will is valid only after a man is dead, and has no force whatever while the one who made it is alive. Not even the first covenant between God and Israel was ratified without the use of blood, for after every regulation in the law had been spoken by Moses to all the people, he took the blood of calves and goats with water, crimson wool, and a bunch of hyssop, and sprinkled the book containing the law and all the people, saying, ‘This is the blood that ratifies the covenant which God commanded me to make with you.’ In fact, under the law, almost everything is purified with blood, and without the shedding of blood no forgiveness is granted.
“It is by the will of God that we are consecrated through the offering of Jesus’ body once for all, as a sacrifice for sins. For by that one sacrifice He has made perfect for all time those who are consecrated to Him.”
The speaker paused in that dramatic way of his, as if waiting for the significance of this part of the message to sink in before going on. Then, seeing that his audience was listening raptly to his every word, he continued, “Since, my brothers, we then have free access to the real sanctuary through the blood of Jesus, let us continue to draw near to God with sincere hearts and perfect faith; with our hearts cleansed from the sense of sin and our bodies bathed in clean water. Let us, without ever wavering, keep on holding to the hope that we profess, for He is to be trusted who has made the promise. Let us continue so to consider one another as to stimulate one another to love and good deeds.
“For if we go on willfully sinning after we have received full knowledge of the truth, there is no sacrifice left to be offered for our sins, but only a terrifying prospect of judgment and that fiery indignation which is going to devour God’s enemies. Anyone of Israel who broke the law of Moses paid the death penalty without any show of pity, on the evidence of two or three witnesses only. How much severer punishment do you suppose that one deserves who tramples the Son of God underfoot and counts as a common thing the blood of the covenant by whi
ch he was consecrated? Therefore, if we would escape judgment for our many sins we must have faith in Jesus Christ and the power of His blood to free us from sin.
“Now faith is the assurance of the things we hope for, the proof of the reality of the things we cannot see. Therefore, let us throw off every impediment and the sin that easily entangles our feet, and run with endurance the race for which we are entered, keeping our eyes on Jesus, the perfect leader and example of faith, who, instead of the joy which lay before Him, endured the cross with no regard for its shame, and since has taken His seat at the right hand of the throne of God.
“May God who gives us peace, who brought back from the dead our Lord Jesus, who through the blood by which He ratified the everlasting covenant is now the Great Shepherd of the sheep, perfectly fit you to do His will He Himself, through Jesus Christ, accomplishing through you what is pleasing to Him. To Him be glory forever and ever. Amen.”
Luke and Thecla waited with Probus outside the lecture hall to speak to Paul. As usual, the apostle was surrounded by a crowd of people questioning him about points which he had emphasized in the sermon. Watching him at a closer distance, Luke saw still other changes since he had last seen Paul. Gone was the humility which had been his in Damascus after being stricken blind on the road and when Luke had helped him escape from the city in the weaver’s basket. Nor was this the same Paul who had prayed for Apollonius to be healed in Tarsus. The air of authority which clothed the apostle now, an air bordering upon arrogance, was the same as he had worn when he reprimanded Peter before the congregation at Antioch, and when he had broken with Barnabas, and when Luke had left him at Corinth.
Finally Paul saw them waiting and hurried over to embrace them. “Thecla and Luke!” he cried joyously. “I did not know you were in Ephesus.”
“We arrived only a few days ago,” Luke said, “on the way to Bithynia.”
“Bithynia?” Paul smiled. “It is a long time since we started there and the man of Macedonia spoke to me in the vision.”
“Why not go with us now, Paul?” Thecla asked impulsively. “It is not too late.”
“No, Thecla. The forces against Christ are too strong here in Ephesus. I must stay and fight them lest they triumph and lead others astray. You heard my sermon, today, didn’t you?”
“Yes,” Luke told him. “You were never more eloquent.”
“Then you know that the coming of Jesus grows nearer daily. It will require all my efforts to strengthen the faith of those who already believe, so that they will not be found wanting.”
“How can you be so sure that He is coming soon?” Luke asked.
“It has been revealed to me. The time is at hand when He will come in all His glory, and those of us who have served Him well will be with Him in His kingdom.” Paul’s voice rose, as if he were addressing a congregation. “He will trample underfoot the temple of pagan gods and destroy those who dare stand against Him and His kingdom. The first time He came to die for our sins that His blood might wash them away. But now He will reign in His rightful form as King over all those who believe in Him, and destroy all earthly rulers who dare to stand against Him.”
“Careful!” Probus warned. “Or you will be in trouble with Rome again.”
“Are you still of so little faith, Probus,” Paul said sternly, “that you cannot see the truth?” Then he turned to Luke. “And you, Luke. Do you deny the truths I spoke to the congregation this morning?”
Luke shook his head. “I do not deny them, Paul. They just don’t sound to me like Jesus.”
Paul’s face flushed with annoyance. “I told you once that these things have been revealed to me from God, Luke. I gave you the title of teacher once, but if you do not believe what I teach, I cannot let you go abroad to Bithynia speaking as one who comes from me.”
Luke remembered another occasion when he and Paul had quarreled over Paul’s interpretation of the meanings of Jesus after Paul had talked to Sergius Paulus at Paphos. Then Barnabas had persuaded him to go on with Paul and swallow his pride. This time Paul had given him the choice of teaching his doctrines or none at all. But before he could speak, he felt Thecla’s hand upon his arm and knew that she was begging him silently not to pursue a quarrel with Paul.
With one of those amazing changes of mood which he sometimes displayed, Paul smiled suddenly and embraced both Luke and Probus. “We are old friends and should not quarrel,” he cried. “I am leaving soon to carry money to Jerusalem, which the churches have been collecting for the poor. Let us journey there together and see our comrades and talk over the things which we believe with James and the elders. I am not one to hold a grudge, Luke, when we are all concerned with the Way of Jesus and how we may serve Him best.”
Luke and Probus looked at each other uncertainly, surprised by the suggestion, but Thecla said, “We could go, Luke. It would be nice to see our friends in Caesarea again.” Luke understood that there was more in her mind than just the desire to see the daughters of Philip in Caesarea, with whom she had become close friends while they were there after the death of Herod Agrippa. Luke’s break with Paul at Corinth had made Thecla unhappy, for she loved them both. And he knew she had gone on hoping for a reconciliation between the two who had once been so close. Nor would he mind going back to Jerusalem, he thought, as long as Thecla was with him, for it would be pleasant to see Mark and Peter and the others again. Besides, he might learn something about the whereabouts of the scroll and read again, in the very words of the Master, the truth about the Way.
“Take your time and think it over,” Paul urged. “I know you cannot make such a decision quickly. I must go now and confer with the presbyters about the money for Jerusalem.”
As they watched him stride away Thecla said, “You three were such close friends once. I would like to see you together again.”
“It was Paul who broke up the friendship,” Probus reminded her. “If he had not changed, we could have continued on together.”
Luke reached out and squeezed Thecla’s hand. “But then I might not have had Thecla, nor you Anna, Probus. So everything has happened for the best.”
“You heard Paul preaching today,” Probus said as they walked home. “Where did he get this idea of the blood of Christ washing away all sins?”
“He thinks that God revealed it to him,” Luke pointed out. “How do we know that He did not?”
“Would Jesus teach one thing if He is the Son of God, as we believe Him to be, and then God tell Paul to preach another?” Probus demanded. “You know more about the life of Jesus than anyone else, Luke. Was there anything in the scroll about the way in which a person could be saved?”
Luke rubbed his chin thoughtfully. He was remembering those days on the road to the Sea of Galilee from Joppa, when he had read the scroll in the evenings in his tent and pondered its teachings while jogging on a placid mule at the end of the long Roman column. And now an incident from the scroll came to him as clearly as if the stained and torn roll of parchment were again unrolled before him.
“There is a passage I remember now,” he said. “On the night before He was betrayed, Jesus was eating the Passover with His disciples. As they were eating, Jesus took bread, blessed and broke it and gave it to the disciples and said, ‘Take, eat; this is My body.’ Then He took the cup, and gave thanks, and gave it to them, saying, ‘Drink from it, all of you. For this is My blood of the new covenant, which is shed for many for the remission of sins. But I say to you, I will not drink of this fruit of the vine from now on until that day when I drink it new with you in My Father’s kingdom.’
“Paul preaches that only belief in Jesus as the Son of God and in His blood as a sacrifice for mankind can put men right with God. And while it is difficult to understand, we must accept it as the truth.”
“But such teaching can spell disaster—for him and for all of us. What can we do?”
“Whatever happens,” Luk
e said, “we must protect him, Probus. Paul is the greatest teacher since Jesus, even if we can’t completely understand what he teaches. Nothing must happen to him.”
III
The Temple of Diana at Ephesus was rightly called “the Temple of Asia,” just as the city was the chief center of that large and populous province. The colonnades of the Ephesian temple represented the first maturing of the graceful feminine lines of the Ionic style, whose delicate beauty was preferred by Asiatic Greeks to the plainer Doric lines of Athens’s own magnificent Parthenon and Propylaea. One of the largest shrines in the world devoted to the worship of the deity of the fountains, it was more than one hundred and twenty-five paces in length and seventy in breadth. Each of its hundred and twenty-seven columns was the gift of a king, and the women of Ephesus had contributed their jewelry to restore the temple after the fire set by the fanatic Herostratus had almost destroyed it in the year of Alexander’s birth. The Ephesians had continued to add adornments to the building, and when Alexander offered them the entire spoils of his conquests in the East in return for letting his name be inscribed upon it, the city fathers had proudly refused. This was the shrine of the goddess whose worship Paul’s successful campaign in Asia was imperiling.
As people began to pour into the city for the traditional holiday season of Artemision, as much devoted to games, the theater, and other favorite pastimes of the Greeks as to the worship of Diana, Paul redoubled his work. Twice daily he spoke in the lecture hall of Tyrannus, and great crowds filled the building on every occasion. Even the Asiarchs, whose duty it was to furnish entertainment for the people and control them while in the city, came to listen, and some remained to believe.
The Road to Bithynia: A Novel of Luke, the Beloved Physician Page 38