Authors: D. Brian Shafer
Benzib sidled up next to Alexander.
“Wait…”
“Just a moment,” Alexander said, stopping the group. They looked at him expectantly. Finally one of them spoke up. “What are we waiting for?”
“I don’t know. Something…”
“There. Look! It’s Paul. Your enemy…”
Alexander glanced to his right and saw Paul with some other men who had accompanied him to the Temple. He rubbed his eyes in disbelief.
Paul? Here? And in the company of that Greek?
He discreetly pointed Paul out to the others.
“The Lord has delivered Paul into your hands…”
“Don’t you see, my brothers? God Himself has brought him here for judgment! Don’t let him leave here!”
The Jews walked quickly to where Paul stood and seized him by the arm. Paul immediately recognized Alexander from a previous conflict in Ephesus. Crowds of Jews and curious onlookers began gathering around the men. Temple soldiers stood at the ready should violence break out.
“Good people of Israel!” Alexander began. “I don’t know if you remember this man. He used to be known as Saul of Tarsus. He was once a learned man. A Pharisee zealous for the things of God…” A few of the people in the crowd recognized Paul.
Benzib and his agents moved in and out of the people, stirring up religious passion within them. Pellecus watched from a distance as the fruit of his idea developed. Other angels gathered as well—both holy and unholy. Serus, Paul’s guardian, remained ever vigilant but bound by the rules of engagement, which forbade his interfering with the freedom that men have.
“I see your master’s poison is at work once more,” Serus called out to Benzib.
“The poison this Temple foments was already in the hearts of these religious fools,” Benzib said. “Pellecus merely expedited the resident poison.”
“It won’t work,” Serus said. “Paul knows how to defend himself.”
“Not this time, angel,” said Pellecus. “Paul is in the heart of the beast. And this beast has as many words as he!”
“Men of Israel! This man is the same who teaches against our nation and our law to people all over the world! He is a traitor to our fathers and a renegade. But worst of all he has brought this man—a Greek—into this holy place!”
The crowd murmured a low rumble. By now, it seemed as if the entire city was aroused and rushing to the Temple to see what was happening. Alexander continued his rant, and soon everyone was talking and becoming increasingly agitated. The custodians of the Temple became concerned and ordered Paul to be removed from the complex. When he was seized and taken out, they shut the gates.
Alexander had created such a riotous feeling among the people that their words were increasingly violent. Someone suggested that Paul be taken out and stoned, and the crowd made its way to the stoning field. The crowd stopped just long enough to begin beating Paul with rods.
“Stop this at once!” came an order.
The arrival of a detachment of Romans along with their commander stopped the crowd’s activity. The commander walked to Paul and demanded his release.
“This man is a blasphemer and, according to our law, is to be taken out and stoned,” Alexander said. “He also brought a Greek into the Temple. Something that is abominable in our eyes.” The crowd roared in approval. The commander looked the crowd over and then spoke.
“I am well acquainted with your disposition toward Gentiles,” he said. “Being one myself. And you—you are not Judean.”
“No, I am Ephesian,” Alexander said. “A Jew from that region. And this man was in Ephesus stirring up all sorts of trouble there. He even caused a riot in the theater.”
“Is that true?” the commander asked Paul.
Before Paul could answer, the crowd began shouting again. The commander was exasperated with trying to get a straight story and ordered that Paul be bound and taken away from that place. The Romans escorted Paul to the barracks, closing ranks around him to protect him. When they reached the steps, Paul turned to the commander.
“May I speak to the people?” he asked.
The commander stepped aside and allowed Paul to speak. He held up his hands for the people to be quiet. They continued their noisy demonstration until Paul spoke to them in Aramaic—and they suddenly became quiet. The commander smiled at the man’s wisdom to speak in the native tongue and not a “Gentile” language.
“People of Israel. Let me tell you my story. First of all, you know me; that I am a Jew. Yes, I was born in Tarsus. But I was brought up in this holy city. I was a student of the great Gamaliel and trained in the Law. I was as zealous for the traditions of our fathers and the law as you are today.”
As he spoke, some of the Pharisees and Sadducees, members of the Sanhedrin, entered the area. Paul saw them arrive.
“Those men—they who are of the high priest’s council—they can attest to the fact that I was a prosecutor of the Way. I cast many of the believers in Jesus of Nazareth into prison—both men and women. Some I even saw killed. Not satisfied with the bloodletting here, I even obtained letters that would allow me to go as far as Damascus to arrest and bring back these people as prisoners.
“But as I neared Damascus, a bright light appeared, and I fell to the ground. I heard a voice, brothers. And as clearly as I am speaking to you, the voice said, ‘Saul! Why are you persecuting Me?’ I was not sure what to do. The men with me stood speechless. I called out, ‘Who are You … Lord?’ And the answer came back: ‘I am Jesus of Nazareth who you are persecuting.’”
The crowd rumbled a bit upon the mention of Jesus. The Pharisees looked at each other. The commander surveyed the situation, making sure that Paul was safe. A few who had seen Jesus taken by a mob years earlier, called out. But for the most part, the people listened.
“And so He told me to get up, make my way to Damascus, and receive further instruction there. My companions took me by the hand because I was blinded. When we arrived in Damascus, we were met by a man named Ananias. This man prayed for me, and I received my sight. I could actually see him standing before me. He was a devout man, well respected by the Jews in that region.
“He told me that God had called me to learn of the Righteous One—and to be a witness of all I learned. And so I was baptized into His name and became a follower. I spent some time here in Jerusalem—praying at the Temple. As I prayed, I fell into a trance, and the Lord told me to leave this place. He told me that Jerusalem would not receive my message and that I was to take it to the Gentiles…”
Upon the word
Gentiles,
the crowd erupted.
“Kill that man!”
“Rid the world of him!”
“This man is not fit to live!”
The commander ordered Paul taken into the barracks for his own safety. Clearly this man had done
something
to arouse such passion among the people. Granted, Jerusalem was always a place of unsettled feelings, but he had not seen nor heard such anger since the man Jesus was tried when he was a young centurion. He gave Paul a drink and questioned him.
“You know I have no love for this rabble,” the commander said. “I could care less about their religion. But what is it you have done? These people want you dead.”
Paul wiped his mouth, bloodied from the beating he had endured. “I have done nothing but speak the truth,” he said. “Nothing.”
“You Jews are always innocent,” the commander said. “Perhaps the lash will help your memory. Centurion! Stretch this man out.”
The centurion with them ordered Paul tied to a wooden platform. A soldier came out with a whip of many strands. The ends of the leather straps had bits of glass and rock woven into the fabric—a deadly instrument to rip the flesh. He struck the platform once to give an indication of what Paul was about to experience. Paul looked at the centurion. “You would flog a Roman citizen who hasn’t even had benefit of trial? I have been found guilty of nothing.”
The centurion waved the man with the whip off. “You are a Roman?”
“Yes,” said Paul.
The centurion left the room and came back a moment later with the commander. The commander, looking a little nervous, came to Paul. “You’re a Roman?”
“Yes,” said Paul.
“But you are a Jew. How is it that you are also a Roman citizen?” asked the commander. “It cost me a great deal to purchase my citizenship.”
“Yes, but I was born a citizen,” said Paul. “I didn’t have to purchase my rights as a Roman.”
The commander looked at the centurion with an uncomfortable expression. He ordered Paul untied. “There will be no more questions of this man,” he said. “Send a message to the Sanhedrin. Tell them they must convene immediately.”
He helped Paul to his feet and offered him a cup of wine. Paul took it and thanked the man. The centurion gave Paul his clothes. The commander winked at Paul. “After all, this is a Jewish affair,” he said. “Let the Jews handle it.”
The convening of the Sanhedrin was something that Pellecus had been anticipating for some time. Finally, Paul would receive his due. Whereas inflaming the Gentiles had failed to stop Paul in Ephesus, Pellecus firmly believed that the key to stopping Paul was the Jews—particularly the hard-line Jews in Jerusalem. Now—with charges brought against Paul in the Sanhedrin—this day promised to be a good one.
Pellecus stood with Lucifer and Kara inside the meeting hall. The Sanhedrin, comprised of the leading Pharisees and Sadducees, met in the Hall of Hewn Stones in the Temple complex. Pellecus couldn’t help but sneer at the pompous manner in which these men carried out their duties.
“The pride of these men is astonishing,” Pellecus said.
“Thank you,” said Lucifer. “It has been my greatest success with humans.”
They laughed.
“Pride will always negate the Lord’s work in these creatures,” Lucifer continued. “Worst of all is religious pride. What a travesty to attempt to worship one’s creator with one’s own method.”
“I only hope this will be the last time these men meet to discuss Paul,” Kara said, as the men began finding their seats in the assembly. “I’m done with Paul.”
“Don’t worry, Kara,” said Pellecus. “This is not Ephesus. These aren’t drunken merchants seeking to save their paltry businesses. These are men of religion. A far deadlier game is being played here. This time Paul will not be playing well.”