(ca. 5 – ca. 64/67 CE)
1. A Chat with St. Paul
Sha’ul of Tarsos – St. Paul to humanity – was surprised when we materialised in front of his eyes in Rome.
“Are you real or am I seeing things?” he asked
“Depends on your definition of ‘real’. We are here on a mission prescribed by Him and his advisers. But neither of us is alive,” I replied.
“Are you then spirits?”
“I think we are,” retorted Archie. “I am Archimedes, Man of Syracuse, and my companion is Peter’le, a Jew who lived in Singapore in the 20th century. He died a short while ago.”
“This is really confusing,” grumbled Paul. “You, Archimedes lived before me. I was told about you. But Peter’le of the 20th century is an unknown. Yes, it is all very, very confusing.”
“Take it as a provisional reality,” I put in.
“But what brings you here – on the eve of my execution?”
Patiently I explained to him my verdict and task. I went on telling him the identity of my previous punchees. Paul knew all about Eve and was familiar with Herodotus, describing him as ‘the father of lies’. He was, in addition, irked by Herodotus’ failure to explore the intervention of the hidden, divine, hand. Paul conceded that he had never heard about Qin Shi Huang and his general ignorance of the Eastern.
“Did any Roman Road lead to Qin’s capital?” Paul wanted to know.
“I am afraid not. You see, Paul, East and West were oblivious of each other’s existence. There was some trade, going through a lengthy route known as ‘The Silk Road’. But there appears to have been no direct communication between the two worlds.”
“And Peter’le forgot to mention that the Eastern world did not speak Greek. They were barbarians!” proclaimed Archie.
“Now, now Mr. Archimedes. I grew up in Tarsos, where a group of people, all Pharisee Jews, spoke Greek and Aramaic and had some command of Hebrew. And I spent years in Jerusalem. My Hebrew improved as I attended Rabban Gamliel’s seminary. I am conversant in Greek, Hebrew and Aramaic. Your assertion, that any language other than Greek is barbarian, is baseless!”
“I refer to my classical Greek,” yelled Archie, “and that is the only civilised tongue. Your Hellenistic Greek is bastardised.”
“Gentlemen, Gentleman,” I interceded, “we can converse without difficulty. So, we must have a lingua franca!”
“I simply made you multilingual,” explained Theophil who surfaced unexpectedly. “Any argument about the superiority of Greek is not to the point. In legal language we would describe it as obiter.”
“I am still in the dark,” averred Paul. “If you wanted Peter’le to identify the seven most interesting persons in human history, why did you ask him to punch them? Why not greet each with a salute?”
“Some time ago, when Peter’le was still alive and kicking, he dreamt of punching a fellow he didn’t like. That gave us the idea,” explained Theophil.
“But Jesus Christ teaches us to love our enemies. Obviously, Peter’le, you did not love the fellow. Was he a non-enemy like a friend or relative?”
“It was just a whim, Paul. In reality, I never punched a person in my life,” I hurried to explain. “Still, your argument is unconvincing. I do not follow your faith and I do hate my enemies.”
“Then why don’t you punch them? Fear?”
“Fear and common sense.” I replied thoughtfully. “Also, I rejected the notion of vengeance, such as punching an opponent.”
“This should have induced you to ask that the sentence be modified. Why on earth should you punch people you do not hate but, rather, admire?”
“You have a point there,” I conceded.
“This is a matter worthy of an interlocutory hearing or plea. Peter’le could actually argue that the punishment does not fit the crime, if indeed there was one,” summed up Theophil and vanished.
“Peter’le,” observed Paul, “your choice is strange. Why did you select me and not Moses or Jesus Christ?”
“I thought about them. Moses was the real founder of a faith. But it was confined to the Hebrews. Jesus was the cornerstone of Christianity but he died as a Jew. You opened the new religion to gentiles and you spread it. Without your efforts, Christianity might not have been embraced by the Romans. You did for Christianity what Martin Luther did, many years after your demise, for the Protestant faith.”
“Don’t you think that the Apostle Peter did just as much?”
“I doubt it, Paul. Remember initially he refused to eat together with gentiles. You argued the point with him and prevailed.”
“Initially I believed that converts ought to be circumcised. I persuaded Timothy. Later I changed my view and concluded that the acceptance of Christ was, in itself, salvation.”
“How about baptism?” I wanted to know.
“The formal act of conversion. Your sins were, thereupon, absolved.”
“I take your point, Sha’ul …
“ . . . Paul …”, he corrected me.
“… I read your Epistles carefully and noted that you refer to Christ as the ‘Son of God’. You never refer to him as ‘God’. Why is that?”
“I spoke metaphorically. The Old Testament often refers to the Hebrews as the people of God or even uses the word ‘sons’. But Judaism regarded God as an abstract, non corporeal, being. Thus, He is described as ‘a still small [thin] voice’ (Kings I, 19:12 and see Job, 4:16).”
“Why, then, did you describe Jesus as the Son of the Lord? Why didn’t you confine yourself to describing him as the anointed or as the Saviour?” asked a bewildered Archie. I was pleased to note that his antagonistic demeanour had waned in parts.
“That’s simple. Many of my converts were brought up as pagans, whose belief was anchored in anthropomorphism. In their eyes, God had a human form. They could relate to my message more readily when I humoured them by describing Jesus as the Lord’s ‘Son’.”
“I understand,” I assured him, reflecting on the fact that Jesus’ divinity cum human role was debated by different sects of Christianity until the Ecumenical Council of Chalcedon (described as ‘the 4th Ecumenical Council’ by the Roman Catholic Church) in 451 AD.
“Still, Peter’le,” continued Paul, “why have you accepted Satan (whom you call Theophil) but reject Him?”
“That’s easy, Paul. Theophil revealed himself to me and He didn’t. Further, you abhor Satan but, to me, Theophil is a strictly non-interventionist-higher-entity. The arguments about His justice were expounded by Job.”
2. St. Paul’s the Apostle
For a while, all of us held our peace. Then I assumed the courage to ask Paul to explain his conversion from Pharisee Judaism to Christianity on his way from Jerusalem to Damascus. The object of his journey was to persecute the Christians; to everybody’s surprise he was converted to the new sect.
“Has much been written about this?” Paul wanted to know.
“It has, rather. The Church takes the view that you experienced a revelation of Christ, who asked you why you were persecuting his followers.”
“Has anybody related where I broke my journey?”
“Some scholars argue that you met the Qumran community. There is no proof.”
“My meeting with their sect opened my eyes. I realised that they, a sect of Essenes, practised a type of Judaism very different from the Pharisee orientation I was brought up with. When I continued my journey, I had my revelation. As you know I was blind for a few days. When Annanias restored my vision and welcomed me, I reached my decision. I also dropped my Hebrew name: ‘Sha’ul’.”
“Your three journeys left their impact. You continued to communicate with converts and called them to task when they wavered. I do believe that, had it not been for your perseverance, the faith might have expired.”
“I still don’t fathom why you regard my contribution as greater than Peter’s.”
“St. Peter eventually accepted that Jews and gentiles were equal before Him. But your initiative and drive were required and bore fruit. I know that St. Peter is considered the first Bishop of Rome. But without your guiding hand and influence he may have never severed the link with Judaism.”
St. Paul smiled with satisfaction. I took in his bald head, scraggy legs and dilapidated appearance. It seemed remarkable that this seemingly plain individual stuck to his view notwithstanding the abuse, flogging and stoning he had endured. Here was a brave and determined man, who believed in his preaching. He was a major figure in the development of the Western World. One point, though, disturbed me.
“Paul,” I asked him, “why did you not travel to Arabia so as to convert the pagans who lived there? You knew a great deal about them. And you never attempted to convert the Persians.”
“The reason is simple: I traversed the Roman Roads and confined my preaching to the people living in the Empire. I did not overlook the heathens in other parts of the world. I was hoping that my successors would spread the true faith in alien territories. Also, I usually visited places where the faith had already been preached. I followed the path trodden by my predecessors and pursued their good work. You see, in most places I visited there was a core in existence. I gave it support and made new converts. And there was the linguistic concern. I could not address pagans who would not be able to follow my words.”
3. Punching St. Paul
I had nothing to add. All that was left for me was to punch him. But unlike my other chosen individuals Paul had gained my admiration. Hurting him was an abhorrent task. Archie, who watched me intently, appreciated my dilemma.
“Look here, Peter’le, let me punch him on your behalf. He repels me because his Greek is poor; and he refuses to acknowledge this shortcoming. He is proud of his boorishness and imperfection.”
“But can I really delegate my mission?”
“Why ever not?” retorted Archie and punched Paul, who looked at him with genuine surprise.
“I have been assaulted for so many different reasons. I was flogged and stoned because I failed to accept orthodox Pharisee Judaism. Then some idiots in Jerusalem got me arrested on some silly drummed up charges. I now await execution because of these. And then, out of the blue, I was punched on linguistic grounds. Archimedes, do you really aver that anybody who has an imperfect command of classical Greek is a Barbarian?” Paul let his amazement show.
“Just to make sure I follow the prescribed procedure,” I interceded and touched his nose gently.
Unexpectedly, Paul broke into a sarcastic grin. “And you, Peter’le, act symbolically so as to make sure you carry out your sentence. But suppose you don’t. What would then happen to you?”
“They may change my sentence altogether and send me to purgatory; and I like my present habitat.”
“Can I see it?”
“Be my guest,” said Archie, who – I suspected – regretted his brutality.
“It is OK with me,” observed Theophil, who surfaced unexpectedly.
Paul viewed appreciatively the shrubbery, the neat meadows and the peacefully flowing stream.
“I get the drift, Peter’le. To you this is not just a haven; it is your heaven. All the same, you remain an enigma.”
“Why?”
“You have not accepted the Good Lord but love your Theophil. You seek to have it both ways. In your eyes, the Almighty may or may not exist; but you do have a pact with the other one, whose existence is on the same level as His.”
“I get your point,” I stammered. “But, somehow, the pattern suits me.”
“If you were still alive, I should strive to convince you of your errors. But there is no point in proselytizing to the dead. So, I’ll take my leave. It was nice meeting you. And you, Mr. Archimedes, don’t assault people who no longer exist.”
Just for once, Archie was dumbfounded. I sensed that St. Paul’s admonition left its mark. Before long, though, my friend regained his composure. Looking triumphant he told me: “If your St. Paul goes on speaking broken Greek, he deserves to be punched!’