Great Lion of God

by Taylor Caldwell

  Accordingly, in fearful secret and in quakings, even many of the priests of the Temple, and thousands of the Jews in Jerusalem, listened to the stories of those called Apostles and disciples, and hundreds were baptized in the dark of the night in the narrow golden river near the city. In their turn they sought out others to whom to tell the “good news.” But with discreet terror they attempted to remain obscure, and as so many were poor and humble this was not too difficult a task. Still, the news traveled, and invariably it reached the ears of Saul ben Hillel whose dismay and rage increased daily.

  He consulted frequently with Pilate and with the High Priest. Pilate was beginning to find the whole matter amusing. He had always hated the Jews. It pleased him that a vigorous Jew, in the person of Paul of Tarsus, was persecuting, denouncing, imprisoning and punishing his own people. It lightened his days of ennui. He kept his own sense of uneasiness to himself, and attempted to forget the Greek physician, Lucanus, and what had occurred in Caesarea. Too, Herod Antipas was behaving like a man beset and was muttering in his red beard, which he regularly sacrificed to Jupiter in the latter’s temple, and then regularly regrew for the Day of Atonement and the Passover. Pilate found life becoming interesting.

  Saul heard that the new and blasphemous Jewish sect had spread like the wings of the morning beyond Israel, was in Syria now, and in his own land of Cicilia, and, incredibly, had shown indications of reaching Greece! was now another Passover, another Pentecostal Feast of the Jews, and the dreadful sect—so insulting to God—appeared to nourish like the plagues of Egypt and to appear in the most unlikely spots. There were rumors that many Roman soldiers had adopted this faith, as well as humbler priests of the Temple, itself, and Saul thought of his cousin, Titus Milo Platonius, in Rome with his aged parents, and his rage rose to frenzy. He felt himself friendless. He knew himself unwelcome in the house of his kinsmen in Jerusalem, and an enemy to them though they made no overt acts to gain converts, and remained in seclusion. (But he suspected, out of his great intuition, that they gave aid and comfort to the persecuted.) He believed that he hated them, and more than all else he hated his sister, Sephorah, who had so deeply betrayed the faith of her fathers, and the faith of Hillel ben Borush, who mercifully had not lived to see this infamy, degradation and blasphemy for himself.

  Why did all his efforts, in the service of God, blessed be His Name, appear to bear no fruit? He no sooner eradicated a source of infection than it sprang up, like the phoenix, in another spot, larger and more vigorous than ever. He stamped out a little fire, and a conflagration blazed at a distance, like a mystery out of Gehenna. Was God testing his determination in His service? Was He trying him, as He had tried the prophets and all the saints, to make him more worthy to carry His sword of vengeance and purity? Was He tempering His servant, as He had tempered Job? “I am afflicted!” Saul would cry to himself in his chamber in the house Pilate had assigned to him in Jerusalem, and he would bow his head in exhaustion and frustration, and try to discover where and how he had failed God that the blasphemous sect should still flourish and even spread. He feared the anger of God for his failure. He strove with the Almighty.

  “I am but a man!” he would exclaim in his prayers. “I have but human endurance! It is true I have stamina, which You have given me, Lord, but it is not without a breaking point, and I am approaching that. None assists me but Pilate and the High Priest and a few of his creatures, and the lickspittle informers who look for the thirty pieces of silver—the market rabble I have always despised! Can You not deign to give me worthier allies? Better none than these!”

  There were times when he was convinced that he was indeed being tested, that the task was greater than he had believed and therefore he needed more tempering, more resolution, that the enemy from hell was more powerful than he could know and demanded more strength than he had shown heretofore, that God was preparing him, as the Greeks would say, for the Great Games, for the amphitheater, for the circus, when alone he would be forced to fight the leagues of evil singlehanded—for the open glorification of God. At these times he felt an enormous and intoxicating pride, and an overwhelming exultation that he had been so chosen for so mighty a task. He would then smite his knees with his strong fists and laugh aloud, and then he would praise God in so loud and passionate a voice that his servants in the house would listen in wonder, shrugging, for they were Greeks. But some would shudder, and would touch a tiny little object of metal which lay over their hearts, and some would pray for this violent and desperate man out of the touching charity of their souls.

  But there were other times when despair overcame him and he would groan on his bed, “I have failed, and God will not forgive me, though I have striven to fulfill His Will, and have fought with all my strength and have wearied my brain with thought and plans. What, then, will be my end, that I have been defeated by creeping wretches who can hardly be considered men, and who still live and spread their pollution and lies and errors among my people? But no, no! I shall not be defeated! I shall not endure this mortification! I shall not let worms halt my footsteps with their slime, and fill up my path! This is the one task the King of Kings has set me. May I die in disgrace, forever forgotten by men, if I do not succeed! Moses accomplished a far more formidable task. I am no Moses—but I can do what I can do, and even God can ask a man no more than that.

  And there were other times when he thought of the Nasi of the Temple, Rabban Gamaliel, who neither sought him nor wrote to him nor sent him messages of consolation and encouragement, he, who above all, should inspire him. At these moments Saul was filled with a passionate anger and umbrage and even fury. But he tried to remember, to believe, that the Rabban desired him to struggle and fall or win by his own efforts, for had he not always said that each man, in his turn, must face God alone and create his own fate? That confrontation, fearful and inevitable, came to all men. Others dared not interfere in the final hours of struggle and darkness and wrestling with the angels of God. The victory must be each man’s, and not the victory of others, lest it be weak and not sustaining. Saul tried to be grateful for the silence of the great Rabban, who knew best. Still—a single letter, a single word of encouragement—I am betraying weakness, Saul told himself sternly.

  Once or twice it came to him that he heard nothing from Aristo in Tarsus, though he had written his old teacher several times. Finally he wrote to Reb Isaac, to receive a short letter from his granddaughter, the widow Elisheba, who had once desired to marry him, to the effect that Reb Isaac now lay in the bosom of Abraham since the last Day of Atonement. She did not speak of Aristo, though Saul had inquired of him. Saul was overcome by the news of his old mentor’s death in his deep age, and it seemed to him that he heard another snapping of a link of a chain which bound him to those he loved and had loved.

  I am all alone, he said to God, in his sorrow. I have been abandoned, except by You, my Lord and my God. It must suffice. I am hated by my own people for my deeds in their behalf and for the sake of their souls, except for a few I despise and would not have about me. Even those who deplore blasphemy almost as vehemently as I do avoid me. I have no friends, no kinsmen. But, are You not enough for man’s desiring, for man’s passion, for man’s surfeit of joy? For, there is none else but You, and if I am deserted by man, surely You, King of Kings, have not deserted me, for I have desired no other save You, my Bread of Life, my Source of living waters.

  It seemed to Saul that he heard the words of God which had been spoken to Job, “Gird up your loins now, like a man! I will demand of you, and declare you unto Me! Deck yourself now with majesty and excellency, and array yourself with glory and beauty. Tread down the wicked in their place. Hide them in the dust together, and bind their faces in secret. Then I will also confess unto You that My own right Hand can save you!”

  “Lord, Lord!” cried Saul, overcome with humility and remorse that he had been so human as to grieve and to voice his plaint that none helped him. Had he not God as his Advocate and his General, and did he
not carry His immortal banner? He, Saul ben Hillel, should rejoice at his trials as a singular manifestation of grace, and never doubt of the victory. But, for some awful and terrifying reason, he was not comforted, and he sorrowed that God had rejected his repentance, and was offended at his weakness. It was, however, all he deserved.

  One day in the heat of late summer Saul heard a report that stupefied and dazed him, and struck at his soul so violently that he feared for his sanity, and his bewilderment was crushing.

  He knew that the apostles of Yeshua ben Joseph of Nazareth, and his disciples, were rumored to be causing great miracles in Jerusalem and the Provinces, notably one Simon Peter, a poor fisherman from Galilee. Saul had sent out many spies and soldiers to apprehend this dangerous man, who deceived many and corrupted the faith of Israel, but always Peter escaped as if melting into mist, and his followers with him. It was reported that many of the rich and illustrious were helping these criminals, these blasphemers, not only hiding them in their houses when pursued but sending them to country estates for safety.

  Worse still, many members of the Sanhedrin, it was reported to Saul by Pilate with enjoyment, were secretly questioning those of Peter’s followers who were apprehended, and a number of them had been enormously moved and impressed by Peter’s eloquent dissertations, and some, it was rumored, were being baptized in the name of the Nazarene and so becoming heretics. Though the law was plain, that the heretics were enemies of the Romans and of Israel, and were inciting mobs to rebellion and to bloody riots, and so must therefore be delivered up to the justice and discipline and punishment of Roman law, and that they were blasphemers, tales were being whispered that the Sanhedrin were not obeying the law, except for a few members, and that they were advising the criminals not be overt in their proselyting but to employ discretion, and then dismissing them with mild admonitions. It was said that after one such confrontation Peter, famous for his effrontery and rebelliousness and lack of respect, had actually exclaimed to the merciful Sanhedrin: “Whether it is right in the sight of God to listen to you rather than to God, decide for yourselves! For we cannot be but speak of what we have seen and heard.” Apparently the members had decided that he had spoken from what he believed was the truth, or his courage had aroused their admiration and his piety had moved them, so they had not held him for justice.

  Saul sought out confirmation of this, for he was incredulous, but everywhere he had met only raised eyebrows and silent smiles and shrugs. This, intended to allay his suspicions, only increased them and his anguish of mind and his bafflement. It was as if hell had opened and had disgorged demons who were driving even the most erudite and pious insane, and inspiring them with heresy and treason. He thought of Israel as under siege by internal enemies who had become demented and lustful of death. He would hear that the blasphemers were preaching and exhorting in the Portico of Solomon in the Temple, and he would hasten there with his soldiers to arrest them. But when he arrived he discovered that they had fled, as if mysteriously warned, and only confusion and shouting and emphatic voices remained among those who had listened, and those of the sick of whom it was reported that the Apostles had healed in the last hour. He would disperse the clamoring and insistent mobs, the Romans using the flat of their swords against the most recalcitrant, and he would seek out some of the priests to demand their explanation as to why they had permitted these fools to gather in the Portico and had not driven them out.

  The priests would smile at him helplessly and respectfully and remind him that Jews had access to the holy Temple at any time, and that disputations among sects were quite common not only in the Portico but among the columns and the gardens and in the halls and the courts, and it was not forbidden. It was even encouraged by the elders, who believed that disputations and argumentations and searchings for truth were salubrious and enlightening, and a guard against error and heresy. If this were forbidden, said the priests, then commentators on the Torah and all the Scriptures—the holy commentators—should be forbidden also, for did they not often offer novel interpretations and comments? To this argument, which seemed to Saul enragingly meretricious, he would reply: “But the commentators and the elders did not advance blasphemy, nor did they encourage the proscribed and permit them to spread heresy and confusion and disorder.” The priests would then remind him of many wandering rabbis, even of the near past, who had inflamed the people also in the Temple purlieus for a short time, but later their teachings were shown to be manifestly false and the people quieted. This would, doubtless, happen to the followers of Yeshua ben Joseph of Nazareth, T patience were expended. After all, were not these men Jews also, and were they not extremely charitable and kind, and mild of speech, and did they not exhort the love of God and obedience to the Law and the Commandments? They lifted their hands against no man. They were not wild like the Essenes and the Zealots and other denizens of the desert. They obeyed established laws meticulously, and flouted none, save the one that they must not spread their error—which, it was admitted, they did not obey. But time would cure them, and what was false would be winnowed from the wheat and that would be the end of it.

  Saul saw that the humbler priests and many of the elders despised and distrusted him as an arm of the hated Roman, and that they took some malicious pleasure in thwarting and maddening him, for all their elaborately respectful manner and their reasonable voices. He could have gladly murdered several when they said to him, making large and innocent eyes at him, “Naught occurs without the Will of God, blessed be His Name, and let us trust in His wisdom, for always He has smitten His enemies and rescued His faithful. To believe He will not do it again is to flout and question His power and His love for His people.”

  Saul seethed with rage at this mockery disguised as respect for himself and his authority, but he, always ready with flaming words, could find no adequate words in answer, except threats. The law was plain: The heretics were proscribed both by the High Priest, Caiphas, his father-in-law, Annas, and Pontius Pilate. To permit them to speak in the Temple was not only blasphemous but seditious, and an affront to God. The priests smiled humbly and bowed, and were silent.

  “These rebels breed like locusts,” said Pontius Pilate with manifest pleasure at Saul’s frustration and fury. “One day there are ten and the next day there are thousands! What are we to do with them?”

  Saul suspected what Pontius Pilate would like to do to all Jews, including the heretics, and he inwardly shrank. Sometimes he pondered as to whether or not he was endangering all of his people by his pursuit of the heretics, but he would immediately put this appalling thought aside as a temptation of Lucifer. He could only go on, daily becoming more despairing yet more resolute, in the service of God. Before multitudes in the Temple he would shout, “By protecting the blasphemers and hiding them, or keeping silent about them, you are invoking the wrath of God, blessed be His Name, for He will not much longer endure the heresy of so many of His people! Therefore, deliver the malefactors to me, that they be punished and silenced, and peace return to us, and the delight of God in His holy land! To do aught else is to invite ruin and death for all of us, and the destruction of Israel.”

  They would listen in silence, some with dark and assenting faces, some mutely and blankly, and Saul would leave, groaning in his soul.

  There was a rumor that several of the disciples and preachers, being imprisoned on orders of Saul, were miraculously delivered one night and were again at large, preaching what they called the Gospel, the Good News. Saul ordered the guards seized for drunkenness and carelessness, despite their protestations that the prisoners had disappeared from their cells though the doors remained locked. To this absurdity Saul replied with a spate of his rare obscenities and anger. He delivered the guards to Pilate for proper punishment. Pilate said, watching Saul with open amusement, “My men swear that divine creatures clothed in light opened the gates of the prison and delivered the malefactors, and that my soldiers could not lift a hand.” He laughed at Saul’s enflamed expr
ession, and shook his head. Verily, he was not so bored these days, and for that he thanked the gods, in whom he did not believe. He would say to Herod Antipas, that capricious and gloomy man, “Your Paul of Tarsus is very redoubtable. It is sad that he does not accept your invitations to dine with you.” Herod would bite his lip and his pale eyes would glow, but he would not reply. His dreams these days were frightful.

  Then Pilate summoned Saul to him one evening, and his clever face expressed vexation and displeasure. He did not offer Saul wine, which was an ominous signal, and one not overlooked by the young Jew.

  “You have spoken to me often of your famous teacher, the Nasi of the Temple, Rabban Gamaliel,” said Pilate. “I know him well. I have entertained him in this house and have been entertained in his. He is a man of wisdom, wit and erudition and I have enjoyed his company, and have rejoiced in it, for this is a tedious country and not to be understood by a worldly man. So few men of cosmopolitan tastes and understanding!