Many came to Paul and he was able to explain the gospel and solemnly testify of the kingdom of God, persuading them concerning Jesus from both the Law of Moses and the Prophets. He spent all day doing this, from morning till evening, and some were persuaded and some disbelieved.
Mark saw Paul flush and grow agitated when they could come to no consensus. “Before you leave,” he said, “I feel compelled to tell you that I believe the Holy Spirit spoke rightly through Isaiah the prophet to our fathers, saying, ‘Go to this people and say: “Hearing you will hear, and shall not understand; and seeing you will see, and not perceive. For the hearts of this people have grown dull. Their ears are hard of hearing, and their eyes they have closed, lest they should see with their eyes and hear with their ears, lest they should understand with their hearts and turn, so that I should heal them.” ’
“Therefore let it be known to you that the salvation of God has been sent to the Gentiles, and they will hear it!”
With that the Jewish leaders left Paul’s place, loudly disputing among themselves.
WHETHER THROUGH THE influence of Julius the centurion or simply because of other more pressing concerns of the government, eventually all charges against Paul were dropped. His guard was removed, along with his chains, and Paul dwelt the next two years in his own rented house. There he plied his trade of tentmaking to support himself while receiving all who came to him. As he wrote to his friends in churches abroad, he was able to “preach the kingdom of God and teach the things which concern the Lord Jesus Christ with all confidence, no one forbidding me.”
That last troubled Mark the most, for he feared Paul was being set up for arrest. Mark was certain the authorities would allow the beloved apostle just enough freedom to wholly incriminate himself. During this time Mark and Peter and Paul labored tirelessly together while Rome seemed to deteriorate under its young Caesar Nero, and for some reason the Nazarenes were now viewed with fear, skepticism, and even hatred by both their Jewish counterparts and the Roman citizenry. Mark prayed he would be able to understand this, for without knowing the cause, he felt at a loss to counter it.
The Christians had long been considered part of the larger Jewish community in Rome and had not suffered persecution to speak of in more than fifteen years. Mark worried that the body of believers, rapidly growing as ever—especially under the leadership of Paul and Peter—would become complacent with their role in society. Paul often taught that followers of Christ were “not of this world,” but were rather aliens, longing for their eternal home. The question was whether it was prudent to trumpet this in their day-to-day lives.
Rumors abounded about what was going on behind the palace walls. Nero was accused of everything from incest with his own mother to rape, sodomy, and even the murders of his mother and sister and many others who opposed him. He was said to have insatiable appetites and an insufferable ego that convinced him he was not only a ruler and a god, but also an artist in several disciplines.
It soon became obvious that Nero was hated even by his own countrymen. Many were convinced he had gone insane and planned to raze the entire city and rebuild it, named after himself. When public criticism arose against him, it seemed the emperor sought a scapegoat. Because the populace already suspected and hated the Jews and, even more, the so-called Nazarenes, it wasn’t long before harassment became the order of the day. It began as mere nuisances, arrests for petty violations, then difficulty getting official approval for anything the church or its people wanted to do.
For months the believers simply tried to accept the status quo and stay out from under the scrutiny of the Romans. Many house churches that had become known as meeting places of the Nazarenes shut down and combined, finding new, more clandestine places to gather. Having largely enjoyed indifference on the part of the ruling class, believers now began to live as a secret society. Their leaders, especially Paul and Peter, were well known to the authorities, of course, and they were constantly forced to answer for any appearance of impropriety on the part of the adherents of the faith.
While not eager to be earmarked for persecution, Mark felt slighted that he was not considered part of the leadership, at least in the eyes of the Romans. It wasn’t that he sought honor—and eventual torture or even death—for himself, but rather that he worried he was not being forthright enough in his witness. But both Paul and Peter urged him to view this as a blessing, an advantage. “God and the church are fully aware of your commitment. When the day comes that the Romans make an example of us, the body will still have you and the other elders who have not become exposed. Enjoy the honor bestowed upon you by those who know—believers old and new—and especially that the favor of God Himself rests on you.”
That counsel soon proved ominously prescient.
TWENTY-SIX
Late on a hot summer night in Rome, a young boy rapped on Mark’s door as he was readying himself for bed. Breathlessly the lad reported, “Master Paul has need of you and asks that you bring Rabbi Peter and his wife.”
“At this hour? Are you sure? They’ll certainly have retired by now.” The boy nodded, and Mark added, “The apostle is not ill, is he?”
“No sir, but he said to tell you that he does have a centurion with him.”
More trouble? Mark thanked the boy and hurried off to wake Peter and Esther. They appeared none too pleased to have been roused, but they did not hesitate in splashing water on their faces and pulling on their light cloaks as they followed Mark out into the night.
Making their way through the narrow streets, crowded on either side by rows of wood frame apartments and the occasional private home, they passed through the Jewish community and its dark business district, finally reaching Paul’s chambers well after midnight.
There was no sign of a contrivance to have borne a centurion to his place. The torch outside his door was unlit, but Paul had apparently been watching for them and cracked the door just wide enough for them to slip in. There in the candlelight sat Julius, whom Mark had met two years before upon Paul’s arrival in chains. Mark had to look twice to recognize him, for the man was not in uniform. He rose from a small table when the visitors entered and warmly greeted them.
Mark, like Peter and Esther, was wary. Paul pointed them to the sparse seats and said to Julius, “Tell them what you have told me. Mark has been searching for just this sort of information for months.”
While Paul poured water for everyone, Julius said, “I am in Rome from Caesarea with another load of prisoners and will be heading back tomorrow. I came from the barracks tonight in disguise and under cover of darkness, for the favor with which my superiors once viewed our friend here has been exhausted. As you know, during the voyage with Paul two years ago I came to see clearly that he was no criminal, no threat to the empire, and certainly no threat to the Jews. Clearly the hand of His God was upon him, for he both prophesied of our welfare and healed the sick in my presence. I was pleased to see that his credibility became evident to the authorities here and that he has been largely left alone since. However, I sense a new atmosphere in the city now, much of it engendered by the people’s hatred of the emperor.”
“What has that to do with us?” Peter said.
“Well, the Jews—and some Roman authorities too—have been talking about your sect. For a long time they didn’t seem to know or care much about you, and it didn’t matter to them what you did as long as it did not affect them.”
“It still doesn’t affect them except that we often urge them to decide to become believers,” Peter said. “But we don’t—we can’t—force them. Some believe and some don’t. But our numbers are growing.”
“Oh, believe me, I know. That has become a topic of great concern to the empire. They, or I should say Nero himself, feels threatened by you.”
“By us?” Mark said. “We have little interest in doing harm to Rome, except that we would choose to ignore their pagan deities.”
“And that is a serious crime,” Julius said.
&n
bsp; “And one we will continue to commit,” Mark said. “But how does Nero’s lack of esteem with the populace reflect on us?”
“I believe he is looking for someone else for them to despise so he might be elevated in their eyes.”
“And so somehow rumors and stories about us are beginning to spread?”
“Not beginning, sir. They are rampant. If you have not felt the hostility of the people for you—”
“We have!” Mark said. “That is why I have been, as Paul said, trying to find the root of it for some time now. What are they saying about us?”
“I will tell you, but you need to know first that this is not coming from me. I am hearing it on the streets, within the government, and within the military. You have become a hated sect, and I cannot fathom it.”
“Nor can I,” Mark said. “I hate the religion of the state, but I choose to ignore it. Why can they not do the same?”
“They fear you. And, as I say, I believe Nero himself would like to cast you as the enemy so he may again appear the hero.”
“He has never been seen as a hero,” Peter said.
“But the office of Caesar has,” Julius said. “He seeks that glory for himself, but of course it will never come, regardless what he or anyone else says about you Nazarenes.”
“I have tried to be forthright and logical and persuasive,” Paul said. “Sometimes confrontational, but rarely. I tried to use reason and simply tell the truth of Jesus that we have all seen and experienced.”
“Then why,” Julius said, “do some say you are cannibals? Do you eat human flesh?”
“What?” Esther said, gasping. “That’s ridicu—”
“Oh, that,” Paul said, holding up a hand. “I have had that charge leveled before. This some say because we partake of the Lord’s Supper, remembering as He commanded, to view the bread and wine as His flesh and blood.”
“Perhaps that’s it,” Julius said. “I can only hope. But you know the imaginations of people’s hearts. This has grown into stories of your sacrificing babies and eating their flesh.”
“Preposterous!” Peter said.
“Sir!” Esther said. “You must believe us! We would no more harm a child—”
“Oh, you don’t have to persuade me, ma’am. I have never seen anything from a Nazarene that would make me even suspect such a thing.”
“The Master Himself visited our home many times,” she said, near tears. “And my children and their cousins and all the young ones from the area loved Him! And He loved them.”
“Of that I have no doubt. I am just telling you what people say.”
“And what else do they say?”
“Well,” Julius said, hesitating and glancing about, “some of what they say is true, and I have seen it.”
“Such as?”
“You refuse to worship the emperor.”
“Guilty,” Paul said, “and I will go to the gallows before I bow to him. Tell me, Julius, do you worship the emperor?”
The man appeared to be fighting a smile despite his obvious fear. Whenever he heard even the wind, he put a finger to his lips. Once he asked whether half the candles could be extinguished. “I must appear to, sir, to keep my job. We bow in the presence of the emperor, yes.”
“But do you worship him, in your heart?”
Julius leaned forward and whispered. “Of course not. None of us do. We despise the man. How could one not?”
“What else?” Paul said. “What other things are held against us?”
“That you do not follow the traditions, nor do you acknowledge our gods.”
“Guilty again,” Paul said. “But neither do we speak out against them, as well we could. We avoid this to protect our flock from the vehemence of Rome.”
“Some say you are uncouth and that you hate the normal joys of life.”
“If they are referring to worldly pleasures and revelry that elevates the physical over the spiritual, perhaps we are. I don’t see how that makes us uncouth, but we are not gluttons, we wage war in our flesh against lust, we take no pleasure in sports and games that result in violence to humans or animals. Is that a reason to hate us?”
“Honored sir,” Julius said, peering at Peter, “I trust you realize that if I hated you, I would not be risking my life by being here right now. You have no quarrel with me. I simply care for your friend here and believed it would be profitable for him—and he thought for you—to know how you are viewed in the capital these days.”
“Forgive me, Julius,” Peter said. “You are right, of course, that my quarrel is not with you. You are merely the messenger, and we appreciate more than we can say the risk and sacrifice you have made to bring this word to us.”
“I must not stay long,” Julius said, “so let me finish. Another charge against you is that you do not seem to honor the memories of your own ancestors.”
“What?” Paul said. “I rarely preach a sermon without harking back to the ancient Scriptures and prophecies and our fathers.”
“But, as you know, many of your own Jews consider your claim of Jesus’ Messiahship as anathema. In my culture we hold in great esteem the authority of greater men, the certainty of our ancestors. We worship the same gods we have always worshiped, and the reason the Jews have been tolerated despite their aversion to our gods is that at least they have remained true to their own heritage and ancestors. You are new and seem to go against both Rome and the Jews, which many see as a double offense. You do realize, do you not, that the worst thing a person can be called in Rome is a Christian?”
Esther shook her head. “We don’t hope to have favor, I suppose, but why should we be hated so?”
“Because of what is happening to the empire, ma’am,” Julius said. “There is trouble on every side. Our enemies threaten. The palace is in upheaval. We fight among ourselves. The people hate the emperor. And in the middle of all this arises a religion that seems to spit in the face of everything we have been about for centuries. My associates in the palace guard tell me that Nero rages against the Nazarene sect and calls you irrational and perverse, mischievous even. He has even said that you are perverting what was once Rome, laying waste our traditions, breaking the peace of the gods, and corrupting our morals.”
“Corrupting your morals!” Esther said. “What morals? We and the Jews seem the only moral people left in this wicked city. Who is Nero to talk about morality?”
“He says you claim that your God is the only God.”
“We do,” Paul said. “And so do the Jews. Does that not upset Nero?”
“My friends tell me it is hard to know from one day to the next what might vex him. His anger is kindled against you because, if it were true that the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob—”
“And the Father of our Lord and Savior—” Esther said.
“—Yes, if He is the one true God, that fact denies the existence of the very gods who founded Rome. Nero, like all Romans, believe Romulus, offspring of Mars, the god of war, founded our city some eight hundred years ago. That gives him divine authority for his power. When you deny the existence of Mars, you attack the state. True or not, most of Rome believes that our troubles stem from the fact that the gods are not at peace, and that they are not at peace because you and yours refuse to sacrifice to them. In their eyes, you are atheists.”
“If the definition of an atheist is one who does not believe in the Roman gods,” Mark said, “call me an atheist.”
“I really must go,” Julius said. “I trust my information at least allows you to be prudent enough to stay safe.”
“We thank you, my friend,” Paul said. “But I pray your affection for me would translate to belief in and love for the Lord, the Son of the true and living God.”
Julius stood and moved to the door. “I feel like King Agrippa,” he said. “I was there when you nearly persuaded him. But I have a young family that awaits me in Caesarea. Should I become convinced that I should adopt your life, it would mean the end of everything we have ever k
nown.”
“And well it should,” Paul said. “Enjoying privileges in an empire as wicked as you have described seems little recompense for raising your children in it.”
“Perhaps you are right,” Julius said. “But the decision will not be made tonight.”
“Know that we will be praying for you, sir,” Esther said.
MARK FOUND PETER and his wife as sobered as he as they strolled back to their own lodging in the wee hours of the morning. “I had sensed a renewed resistance,” he said, “but I had no idea.”
“I don’t even want to believe it,” Esther said. “I thought we had come so far since the Romans and the Jews put Jesus to death.”
“They were just pawns in God’s plan, dear,” Peter said weakly. “You know that. It would not have made a difference who was in power. We didn’t know it, but He had come from Heaven to die.”
“And to rise again,” she said.
“Amen. Of one thing I am certain, Mark. It is time for you to finish your account.”
“Your account, you mean,” Mark said. “Anything of value on my papyrus has come from you.”
“But now the church needs it more than ever, here and abroad. Plus, I need you to finish so you can help me with messages I would like to write.”
“It would be my honor.”
They agreed Mark would shape the gospel of Jesus from all the material he had and that Peter would be the final arbiter before showing it to Paul and beginning to read and distribute it to the believers.
THREE DAYS LATER, Paul arrived alone at one of the house churches, where Mark and Peter were meeting with the leadership. Mark excused himself and rushed to him. “You look crestfallen, rabbi. What is it?”
“Awful news.”
Paul handed the small scroll to Mark, who opened it to find that the ship returning to Caesarea, the one carrying Roman soldiers and Julius, the centurion, had been lost at sea. No survivors. “We can only pray he made his decision for Christ before he perished,” Mark said, his voice thick.