Empire's End (33 page)

That night a Jewish couple from Joppa became believers in Jesus the Messiah and said they were eager to get back to their family and congregation to tell them the good news. I warned them they might not find everyone so welcoming.

A young man, a Greek who said he had always been a devout follower of God but who had never heard of Jesus, also became a believer. He asked if he could find other followers of The Way in Pisidian Antioch.

“Some are being sent from Jerusalem to preach and teach in that area. If you ask the right questions and listen for the right answers, you believers will find each other and churches will grow there.” I also told him to write to me in Tarsus if he found no fellow believers and I would encourage him and tell him if I knew of anyone coming to his region.

The next morning several others asked me to talk more about the Messiah, but I learned that God had other plans for me on this voyage. He had apparently not designed it merely to train me in ministering to strangers. He also gave me a taste of opposition.

I was holding forth about the truths of God to a group of about a dozen when I was interrupted by a boatswain who told me the captain wished to speak with me in his quarters. I told him I would come as soon as I had finished teaching the group.

“You don't understand, sir. The captain of this ship is like the governor of a province. He holds your life in his hands.”

I smiled. “So if I don't come immediately he can throw me overboard. Is that what you're telling me?”

Several chuckled. The boatswain did not. “That is exactly what I'm telling you, and I've seen him do it. You are entirely under his authority as long as we're at sea. He can marry you and bury you, and if you haven't noticed, not one sliver of land is visible from here.”

“I believe you had better go,” one of the men in the group said.

I followed the boatswain amidships and he pointed me to the captain's quarters. “Have I gotten myself in trouble?” I said with a light tone.

The captain neither smiled nor looked up from his charts. He merely pointed to a chair. “This is my meeting,” he said, “so allow me to ask the questions.”

“I apologize.”

He referred to a long sheet of parchment and traced a finger down a list, stopping midway. “‘Paul bar Y'honatan, no city listed, full fare paid, disembarking Tarsus.'” Finally he looked up at me. “Occupation?”

“Tentmaker.”

“Then why don't you make tents and keep me from hearing complaints about you?”

“Complaints?”

“Some worry that you are a sorcerer.”

I covered my mouth to hide a grin.

“This does not amuse me, Paul. I employed all my skill to fight through a squall last night, when suddenly the wind and the waves unaccountably stilled. More than one person says you commanded them to do so.”

“I assure you I possess no such power. I prayed and God answered.”

“I do not believe in the gods.”

“Neither do I. I believe in the one true God, Maker of heaven and earth. The wind and the waves obey Him.”

“Well, Paul, I'm grateful for whatever part you played in stopping the storm. Another swell like the first could have done serious damage to this ship. But some Jewish passengers are even more exercised that you seem to ascribe to a certain man the qualities of the messiah. As I said, I am not a religious person, but I know when you are disrespecting someone's beliefs. The Jews believe in a prophesied messiah, and they didn't book passage on my ship to have some tentmaking drifter claim that man has already arrived and that you've met him.”

“Sir, with all due respect, I am not only a Jew myself but a Pharisee of the highest order.”

“For whatever that is worth.”

“I studied under Gamaliel.”

“I'm sure that means something import—”

“And the Messiah
has
come and I
have
met Him.”

The captain stood. “If you want to reach Tarsus, you will keep that to yourself. Do we understand each other?”

“Are you a god or are you a man?”

“You well know the answer. I told you I do not claim even to be religious.”

“Then I give you fair warning: I choose to obey God rather than man. If God tells me to speak about the Messiah, I will.”

“And I will cast you into the sea if you challenge my authority.”

“I answer to a higher authority, sir.”

“Aboard this ship you do not.” As in Balbus' home, I felt not the least hint of fear, yet the Lord did not permit me utterance. “You are dismissed, and I warn you, not another word about the messiah until we dock at Tarsus next week.”

I had promised the people I would be back to teach them, so I rushed from the captain's quarters. For the first time on the voyage every sail billowed to its maximum and the ship seemed to slice through the water. The crew seemed excited about the efficiency of the craft, the wind, the weather, and the progress.

My little gathering seemed to have grown, several having joined while I was away. I sat and said, “I was quoting from the prophet Isaiah. But some aboard are offended at my claim that Jesus could be the Messiah, and the captain has ordered me to stop talking about this.”

“How dare he? Talk about whatever you wish! If someone doesn't want to hear it, he doesn't have to listen!”

“Fair enough. If you care to listen, stay.”

A handsome, gray-haired couple quickly rose and left, I continued, and within a few moments the captain and several of his crew came and dragged me to the side of the ship. I desperately pressed my leather bag to my chest.

“What is happening?” a woman cried out. “What are you doing to this man?”

Several others joined the fray, and a crowd of well over a hundred quickly gathered. The captain called for order. “This man is guilty of contempt of the captain, punishable by death!”

“What has he done?”

“Let him apologize and stop what he's doing!”

Two crew members lifted me off my feet and carried me to the edge of the craft, awaiting the captain's orders. Passengers came running from all parts of the ship.

“No, no!” several shouted. “Let him speak! What's he done?”

“He's taught blasphemy!” a man yelled. “He calls himself a Jew, yet he claims he's met and talked to the Messiah!”

“So he's a crazy man! Don't kill him for it! Let him live! Let him live!”

Several took up the chant.

“There's nothing crazy about him,” the captain said. “I warned him! Told him not to talk about this till we get to Tarsus! I don't care what he thinks, what he believes, I'm responsible for this ship, and every passenger does what I say or pays the consequences! I'm a fair man. I'll ask him one more time, give him one more chance. Paul, will you stop talking about this Jesus as the messiah, yes or no? If you stop, you live! If you don't, into the sea with you.”

“I will not!” I shouted, and screams and shrieks arose from the crowd.

He gave a wave, and over the side I went.

Tunic and mantle flapping in the warm breeze, I wrenched the strap from around my neck and thrust my bag over my head, wanting it to be first to resurface. Not a person aboard ship would have given a shekel for my chances with no land visible, but I knew God would not end my mission before it had barely begun. I needed to keep my parchments as dry as possible.

Fortunately my knees were slightly bent when my sandals finally smacked the surface, for the force raced all the way to my shoulders and head. With my hands aloft cradling the bag, all I could do was hold my breath and wait till my momentum stopped and I began to rise. I kicked
as hard as I could against my waterlogged tunic and mantle, and when the bag and then my head popped out of the cold sea, the sun warmed my scalp and face, and the cheers of my fellow passengers warmed my heart.

I found the captain's dark, glowering eyes among the many faces on the deck. He appeared stumped by what had to be a funny-looking little sojourner some thought was a sorcerer, bobbing and grinning with his bag aloft.

As one, the crowd turned to look at the masts, where the sails had suddenly lost their tension. Every expanse of fabric hung limp in the face of not even the hint of a zephyr. The sea lay still, its surface smooth as a marble floor.

Almost imperceptibly, but unmistakably, the ship began to glide. I was as fascinated by this as anyone, for nothing seemed to propel it. I set my bag on my shoulder to rest my arms and merely caressed the water with my feet to stay afloat. The captain barked for the helmsman to take the wheel and set the craft back on course, but regardless how the man spun the great rim, the massive vessel appeared to have a mind of its own.

As I remained suspended, left to die in the cold Mediterranean, his seemingly rudderless ship, sans wind or current, inexplicably circled me for hours.

The chant started low, then gained volume until all the passengers—no doubt eager to get on with the voyage—joined in clear and strong: “Pick him up! Pick him up! Pick him up!”

Finally the crew gathered solemnly around the captain, causing the chant to cease and allowing me to hear the first mate say, “Give the order, Captain.”

He nodded and turned toward his quarters, muttering, “Pick him up.”

The passengers erupted.

The crew tossed ropes to me.

As soon as I was back aboard, the sails fluffed to life and never flagged again.

My parchments were dry.

I preached Christ and Him crucified, and many more became believers.

The captain never showed his face again.

TARSUS

A
S YOU CAN IMAGINE
, few passengers doubted the Lord's hand was upon me. Daily many milled about, pleading with me to speak with them, pray for them, teach them from the Scriptures, and tell them about Jesus.

I remembered the gray-haired couple who had joined the little group when I had been in the captain's quarters and had slipped away when I resumed speaking of the messianic prophecies. They were at the edge of every crowd now, looking both troubled and curious. Finally I sought them out and asked to speak with them privately.

The man, perhaps a dozen years older than I, introduced himself as Kaduri, a supplier of cilicium to tentmakers in Tarsus, and his wife, Nait.

“Perhaps you did business with my father, Y'honatan,” I said.

“That was your father? Of course I did, God rest his soul. Anyone who supplied tentmakers worked with the best in the trade. Now, I knew your father only in business, but surely he was not—”

“Pardon me, sir,” I said, holding up a hand, overcome. “Did you say, ‘God rest his soul'?”

“Oh! Forgive me! I assumed you knew! I'm so sorry, Paul!”

“When?”

He looked to his wife. “When was it we went to the funeral, Nait? Not a year ago. The daughter and grandchildren were there with your mother. She is not well either, did you know?”

“Yes. Is she failing?”

“She does not remember things. She kept asking where Y'honatan was.”

“Oh, no.”

“I'm sorry. Your father was so highly thought of. Many from his congregation and the community were there, and of course countless who had known him in business. You knew he had retired and been ill.”

I nodded.

“The son-in-law has taken the business,” Nait said. “Whom do you deal with now, Kaduri?”

“Ravid. Very knowledgeable. Paul, I am very sorry. I would not have said anything.”

“No, it's my fault. I lost touch, and my sister and I, we . . .”

“I understand. But if it's not too painful, I was going to say, as devout Jews ourselves, we knew your father and mother as most observant. We did not attend the same synagogue, but I believe it would be fair to say they would not share your views.”

“That is correct.”

“Is that the reason for the estrangement then?”

I had asked for this conversation, hoping to draw them out, to see if they had been the ones offended by my speaking of Jesus as the Messiah. Now I was certain they had been, but I hadn't expected to be interrogated myself.

“No, I have been unreachable for some time. But I wanted to let you know that I do not bear any animosity for your reporting my offense to the captain.” Both appeared as if they wished they could deny responsibility. “Truly, it's all right. Before I became a believer in Jesus as the Christ, I would have done the same. It is a mark of your devotion to God, misguided as I believe it is—and mine was. But I have seen by your faces since then that you have started to wonder.”

“We're far beyond wondering,” Nait said. “Isn't that true, Kaduri?”

“Yes,” he said. “When this ship went from near-breakup to becalmed because you prayed, I won't deny we thought you were praying to some god we didn't believe in. But when it became clear the Lord Himself wouldn't leave you in the sea, and now we've been sailing straight for port since you've come back aboard, well . . .”

“You're ready to listen.”

“More than ready,” Nait said.

By the time we reached Tarsus, Kaduri and Nait had become followers of Jesus, praying with me daily and inviting more and more passengers to meetings and seeing several added to the kingdom of Christ. They wanted me to come to their synagogue as soon as they could arrange it. I told them I would be happy to but warned them they were likely to be received the way they received me initially. “Don't expect that our church will begin in your temple.”

“Then it will begin in our home!”

They offered me a ride from the Tarsus harbor to my old homestead, which I accepted, but I alighted half a mile short of where I had grown up. All things considered, I couldn't simply appear unannounced on the doorstep of my childhood home. Despite all, my sister would feel obligated to offer me hospitality, at least temporarily. So I first stopped at a bathhouse and washed not only myself, but also my clothes. Then I paid a young man to deliver a message to Shoshanna, letting her know I would arrive in
an hour and that I looked forward to seeing Mother, my sister herself, her husband, and their children.