St Paul's Labyrinth

by Jeroen Windmeijer

  ‘I don’t know. It sounds … logical. You’ve made it through six stages and the ladder ends with the Father. But the point is, the Father is the only one who knows everything. Raven knew, apparently, but he’s gone now. And Jakob, but—’

  ‘So why did you bring me here?’

  ‘Because I was starting to have doubts. I needed to see you for myself. And the Father was threatening to … You know, I can help you.’

  ‘I just want one thing: to find Judith. I’m not interested in anything else,’ Peter said. He stood up and took a step closer to Daniël, so that their bodies were almost touching. ‘If you would just get out of my way,’ he hissed, ‘then I can go to the church.’

  Daniël shook his head and gestured at something behind Peter, almost invitingly, like a waiter showing a diner to a table.

  Peter turned around and saw a small, wooden door in the wall. It was barely more than a hatch.

  ‘We can go through here,’ Daniël said.

  He twisted the iron ring that served as a doorknob and opened the little door. A blast of cold air hit their faces, bringing with it the odours of mould and wet earth.

  As though he was trying to suggest that Peter had a choice, Daniël stepped into the darkness first, crouching down to avoid hitting his head on the lintel.

  ‘But small is the gate and narrow the road that leads to life,’ Daniël said, his voice echoing down the tunnel, ‘and only a few find it.’

  Peter hesitated. If he turned around now, he could easily go back through the door, out onto the street and walk to the church himself. On the other hand, that would mean going over the busy Blauwpoortsbrug and making his way through the even busier Haarlemmerstraat.

  It sounded like Daniël was opening another hatch. Peter could hear metal on wood. Then the dark space was illuminated by the bright light of a burning torch.

  Peter stuck his head through the hatch and saw Daniël disappearing through a hole in the ground. Only the top half of his body was visible. He held the torch up and pointed it at Peter.

  Peter went all the way through the opening and closed the door as well as he could behind him.

  They went down a winding staircase until they reached a tunnel about five metres lower. It looked identical to the one they had discovered under the library the day before.

  So it is a labyrinth, Peter thought.

  ‘This way,’ Daniël said simply, as if he hadn’t even considered that Peter wouldn’t follow him. ‘This will take us to exactly where you want to be.’

  ‘Teribilis est locus iste … ’ Peter recited.

  Without looking back, Daniël replied, with a hint of amusement in his voice: ‘Et porta coeli.’

  42

  Saturday 21 March, 12:00 noon

  The water was now so deep that Judith could no longer stand up in it. She paddled desperately, treading water to keep her head above the surface. Every so often, she tried to lift her body high enough out of the water to grab onto the grate above her head, like a water polo player aiming at a goal. But it remained just out of reach. She had hoped that hanging onto the metal bars would be less exhausting than constantly treading water.

  This can’t be how I die, she thought. Imprisoned for reasons I can’t even begin to fathom and about to drown if someone doesn’t come and rescue me soon.

  Sobbing, she began to pray, an old psalm that welled up inside her.

  ‘Save me, O God,’ she sang softly. ‘For the waters have come up to my neck. I sink in the miry depths, where there is no foothold. I have come into the deep waters. The floods engulf me now.’

  She found that singing was strangely comforting. A sort of peace came over her, as though she was ready to accept her inevitable end.

  ‘Rescue me from the mire, do not let me sink. Deliver me from those who hate me, from the deep waters. Do not let the floodwaters engulf me or the depths swallow me up or the pit close its mouth over me.’

  But the peace it gave her was brief. Before she was able to sing the last words, her voice cracked and broke.

  With each passing minute, the bars above her head grew closer and closer.

  THE SIXTH VISION

  And behold, I saw the man. He travels tirelessly along the ways of the Lord, collecting money as he has promised. As steadfast as the sun that makes its way through the sky, he goes from village to village, from town to town. For the path of the righteous is like the light of dawn, which shines brighter and brighter until full day. And he is protected by Venus, the morning star, surrounded by love …

  He could have been wealthy, and yet he stays poor for his converts so that by his poverty they might become rich. The believers in Macedonia give more than they can spare, because one who gives freely will grow all the richer and one who withholds will only suffer want. A generous person will be enriched, and one who gives water will get water. One who gives must give generously from the heart. And in Corinth too, each one gives as he has made up his mind to, not reluctantly or under compulsion, for God loves a cheerful giver. They are truly the children of their Father in heaven.

  He tells them about Isaiah and how he prophesied that the treasures of the sea would be brought to Zion, how the riches of the nations would be brought to the Lord.

  And behold, he travels back to Jerusalem. People warn him not to go further, but onwards he goes, like a river flowing unstoppably to the sea. The prophet Agabus binds his own hands and feet with Paul’s belt: ‘This is the way the Jews in Jerusalem will bind the man who owns this belt and will hand him over to the Gentiles,’ he says. But Paul answers that he is willing to be captured, willing to die for the name of his Lord. But they do not know of which Lord he truly speaks.

  In Jerusalem, the eternal city, he meets with James and all the elders. They give praise and glory to God when they hear of the work Paul has done in his ministry among the Gentiles. But they are also concerned that thousands of Jews no longer obey the laws of Moses, they do not circumcise their children, and they have abandoned the dietary laws. Paul is overjoyed because they have no idea whose message they have really accepted, or that an even greater conflict hangs over their heads.

  And behold, for their sakes, he goes to the temple with four other men to be purified. After seven days, the Jews seize him, Jews from Asia. For the first time, he is afraid. They cry: ‘Fellow Israelites, help! This is the man who is teaching everyone everywhere against our people, our law, and our temple; more than that, he has actually brought Greeks into the temple and he has defiled this holy place.’ Not long before this, they had seen him in the city with Trophimus the Ephesian, and they supposed that Paul had brought this Gentile into the temple, a serious offence. The city is in uproar. The people rush together and drag Paul out of the temple. The doors are shut and they try to kill him, as they once killed Stephen when they laid their cloaks at this very man’s feet.

  But behold, his fellow countrymen come to help him. When the Jews see the Roman soldiers approaching, they stop beating him. The tribune arrests him and orders him to be bound with two chains. Then they take him to the barracks, safe from the angry mob.

  Paul knows that his mission is complete, that he has achieved his goal. Just before he is taken inside, he gives another speech about his life, about his conversion on the road to Damascus, a story he has told so often that he has even started to believe it himself. His words are like oil to a flame. ‘Away with this man!’ the people cry. ‘Such a man has no right to live!’

  And behold, the tribune orders that he be flogged during his interrogation to find out the reason for this outcry against him. Then Paul knows that it is time to remove his mask. No longer must he keep his true self hidden. ‘I am a Roman, just like all of you,’ he says. ‘You are forbidden to flog a Roman citizen, especially without trial. I was born a Roman citizen.’ This strikes fear into their hearts and they do not hurt a hair on his head.

  Forty Jews swear they will touch neither food nor drink until they have murdered Paul. Paul’s nephew warns th
e Romans about the plot, but no one comes to raise his spirits, not one of his brothers, not one of his sisters. He is alone. He is taken to Caesarea, accompanied by two hundred soldiers, seventy horsemen, and two hundred spearmen. Their compatriot will be safe, far from the murderous hands of the Jews.

  And hark, the high priest Ananias comes down with some elders and Tertullus, a lawyer, to present their case against Paul to the governor. ‘We find this man to be a pest who has incited rebellion among Jews all over the world.’

  For two years, Paul remains in Caesarea. He needs only to give the money he has collected to Felix the governor and he will be a free man. But Paul is stubborn and refuses. Felix is succeeded by Porcius Festus. The old accusations resurface and then, then Paul finally appeals to the emperor. ‘You have appealed to the emperor; to the emperor you will go,’ Festus says.

  And behold, King Agrippa comes to listen to Paul, and Paul tells his story again, now with even more conviction than before.

  Agrippa and Porcius Festus withdraw to discuss the case. ‘This man has done nothing to deserve death or imprisonment,’ they say. And Agrippa says to Festus: ‘This man could have been set free if he had not appealed to the emperor.’ Now they must send him to Rome.

  Everything is going according to plan. Paul gives thanks to his Lord that he has spared him, that he has given him the wisdom he needed and put the right words in his mouth to fool them all. The followers of the Way will spread the word of his Lord Mithras, hidden behind the mask of Christianity.

  And Paul knows: I am free.

  Just as nothing can stop the sun from making its way through the sky, nothing can stop me on my path.

  I am a Sun-Runner.

  43

  PATER

  FATHER

  Twenty-one years ago, spring 1994

  But, Tiny realised, not even the Ebionites knew just how well he had fooled them all. Not to this day …

  From Tiny Strauss’ notebook

  Paul left Tarsus, the centre of the Mithras cult, and went to Jerusalem as a Raven. Initiated into the first grade, his new status as messenger meant that he had to leave home.

  Paul was a tent-maker by profession, and so he was able to support himself. He went to live with the Father, the leader of the Mithraists in Jerusalem, so that he could study with him and prepare himself for the second grade of initiation, the Bridegroom.

  In those days, the temple, like most non-Jewish temples, was in fact an enormous abattoir, an open-air butcher’s shop where many people bought their meat. Animals were sacrificed there on an industrial scale. Sometimes the carcasses were burned, but usually the animals were cut up after their sacrificial deaths and sold. This was an important source of income for the priests, who were more or less ordained butchers in divine service. During Pesach, an estimated 250,000 animals were slaughtered on behalf of the hundreds of thousands of pilgrims who visited the eternal city to celebrate the holiday.

  A permanent stench of blood, decay and death hung over the city. Stinking, black clouds rose from the perpetually burning fires in the crematoria where the animals were burned. All of that combined with the heat of the Middle East, the flies, the rats, the maggots …

  The sacrificial animals were ritually slaughtered by means of a single cut with a sharp knife across the carotid artery after a short prayer by a priest. When it was done correctly, the animal immediately lost consciousness and bled out. Rivers of blood flowed from the temple, drained away by two underground channels.

  Paul lived and worked in Jerusalem and was a familiar face in the temple. It had a never-ending supply of hides from the countless animals that were killed there, and he bought them in bulk for his tent-making business. And it was there that his eye was caught one day by the high priest’s beautiful daughter. Love can strike like a lightning bolt … Gone was his desire to follow the path of Mithras, gone was his ability to focus on the next stage.

  He still wanted to be a Bridegroom, but with her, under the chuppah, breaking a glass under his foot to show the fragility of happiness.

  He became a Jew and had himself circumcised. And speaking of blood … when the mohel was circumcising him, his hand slipped, either from clumsiness or because someone bumped into him, who can say, but it must have been a bloodbath. Perhaps the tip of the glans was sliced off. It’s possible. Those knives were razor sharp. He bled like a stuck pig, like a sacrificial animal bleeding dry on the temple steps. Urinating was painful for the rest of his life afterwards, a frequent, daily, burning hell. He could forget about herds of goats descending from the hills of Gilead, he would never even see her breasts like fawns let alone touch them, he would never find out if her lips really tasted of honey. He had been in love, and like all those who are in love – some things never change – he’d thought that the world was his for the taking, that the object of his love looked at him in the same way he looked at her. But nothing could have been further from the truth. She wanted nothing to do with him. Paul was fairly unattractive, perhaps bow-legged … And she a Jewish beauty, in the flower of her youth, promised at birth to a man chosen by her father so that two families could be united forever.

  She toyed with him; in his feverish fantasies, one smile that revealed teeth as white as sheep coming up from washing was her consent. But she laughed at him behind his back, made fun of him with her friends, amused them greatly with her imitations of the fawning, love-sick looks he gave her as he haggled with her father over the price of hides, the way he stuttered when he saw her, the handful of Hebrew words he knew …

  He was a tent-maker, up to his elbows in bloody, stinking hides all day. There was no dirtier job possible to a Jew. It was like a Hindu body burner from the lowest caste setting his heart on a brahmin’s daughter …

  To win her heart – and that of her father of course – he abandoned his trade and joined the temple guards. He was more fanatical than all the others put together.

  It’s quite possible that he was present when Jesus was arrested, that he was one of the officers armed with sticks who arrested him in the Garden of Gethsemane. What is certain is that he was there when Stephen, the first of Jesus’ followers to be martyred, was stoned. This is where he makes his first appearance in the bible as Saul instead of Paul. Everyone laid their cloaks at his feet because they would get in the way when they were throwing rocks at Stephen.

  He was sent to Damascus to take a letter to the high priest there. Saul thought he was being asked to complete an important task, or even a test that would prove him worthy to his future father-in-law, like Heracles performing twelve labours for Eurystheus, King of Mycenae. He would have dragged King Minos’ bull from Crete to the mainland with his bare hands if the high priest had asked him to …

  On the way to Damascus, he dreamed of a wedding the likes of which had not been seen in generations, the wedding night, the cool evening breeze blowing through the windows carrying delightful perfumes, the glasses of wine on the table, the little bunch of grapes that she would teasingly feed him, an erotic promise of what was to come, the moonlight on her perfect body, the body he would soon make love to … Sometimes these thoughts made his member so stiff that sitting on a saddle was almost impossible and he was barely able to ride his horse. He would take her in his arms, he would be tender, and she full of passion … they would melt into each other, become one body. They would both be naked and unashamed of their nakedness with each other.

  But on the way, Paul had one of the epileptic fits that had plagued him since childhood. He fell from his horse and had a renewed encounter with his Lord, Mithras, to whom he had made a solemn promise when he became a Raven, when the blood of the bull had rained down on him and he had washed himself clean in the life-giving essence of his sacrifice.

  He went blind and his eyes stayed closed for three days, but everything was clearer to him than ever before. Saul knew that he had strayed from the true path, that he had allowed himself to be blinded by love, or lust, the desire that shackles the soul to the body
, nails the body to the cross … Paul was torn.

  On his sickbed, he had someone read him the letter that the high priest has asked him to deliver. His future father-in-law, the man he longed to address as abba, father … The only purpose of this entire mission had been to keep him out of Jerusalem during a wedding the likes of which had not been seen in generations, a wedding between his beloved and her unworthy bridegroom, the son of the high priest’s influential friend. The rage, the humiliation … he had allowed himself to be carried away by the serpent’s treacherous glances. It was Eve all over again.

  And he swore he would take revenge, not just on her, not just on the high priest and his brood of vipers, no, he wanted to bring down all Jews, erode Judaism from the inside so that it would collapse. Like a giant with feet of clay, he would pour water over those Jewish paws until they could no longer bear the weight above them.

  He was ashamed because he knew that he had strayed from the true path, that he had betrayed his Lord for a worldly woman.

  He rose up with renewed energy, stronger, more determined than ever. He would be a Bridegroom, yes, but not hers – it was better for a man to be alone. For three years he prepared himself, for three years he hid away with his old brothers, who had brotherhoods everywhere. They welcomed the prodigal son back with open arms.

  He revealed his plan to them, his way of introducing their Lord to the many people and places where his name was not yet known. Some of them were opposed to it and thought that its success would be at the cost of their religion, their privacy, the secrets meant only for the initiated … But he was able to convince them. Most people, he explained, wouldn’t even be aware that they were worshipping Mithras. The story of their god, their Mithras, who sacrificed his blood and his body so that they could have a life in the hereafter, an eternal life in which they would be reunited with the loved ones who had passed away before them … That would be the story that people would believe in and tell each other, perhaps even for hundreds of years after Saul and his followers had died. But at the same time, the story also contained a deeper layer, one which would only be revealed to the initiated. Something would remain of the mystery that could only be fully understood after initiation. The majority of people would actually stay on the outside, on the periphery, and be content with a literal interpretation of the stories, believing that these formed the core of their faith.