Fire and Sword (32 page)

“They can’t destroy him here,” said Kara. “His Roman escort is just outside.”

“Of course, they won’t destroy him here,” said Pellecus. “At least not in body. But these are the most learned men in the land. They are caretakers of this sacred knowledge they worship. Paul will clearly be at a disadvantage today. He’ll find that his tongue will finally fail him.”

“I hope you’re right, Pellecus,” said Lucifer. “For I have yet to see Paul’s tongue be anything but crafty.”

A hush filled the room as Paul entered the chamber. The Sanhedrin had taken their places—the Pharisees on one side, the Sadducees on the other. Paul took his place as the accused. He recalled, with a sense of honor, other trials that had taken place in this room. Jesus Himself had been charged here. As had Stephen. Now it was his turn. He was in august company and prayed he would have the strength to do them justice.

“How do you answer the charges against you?” the prosecutor asked.

“I stood in your place once,” Paul began. “And I was witness to another man’s trial. A man who was filled with the Lord’s Spirit and whose integrity you could not resist. Do you remember Stephen? Now I stand accused of serving the same Christ he served.”

Paul looked around the room at the grim faces. “As to these charges, I can only say that I have faithfully served my God and have a clear conscience today.”

“Strike him!” ordered the high priest.

A Temple soldier struck Paul in the face. Paul turned toward the high priest and pointed at him. “You white-washed wall! You break the law of the very God you say you serve by striking me in here. It is illegal to strike a man who is being questioned by this body! Just as it was when you struck Jesus.”

“You dare to speak to Ananias that way? How dare you accuse the high priest?” said Zaniah, a Pharisee.

“This is utterly delicious,” Pellecus said. “Paul is being fed to the lions.”

“I wouldn’t give up on Paul yet,” interjected Crispin, who had arrived with Serus. “These men are filled with the spirit of religious pride. Paul is filled with the Spirit of God.”

“Religion will always kill the spirit in a man,” Pellecus countered. “We’ve seen that from the beginning.”

“Only if that man is controlled by that spirit,” Crispin said. “While it is true that a man is controlled by what he believes, it is also true that Paul believes correctly.”

“Nevertheless he is finished,” Berenius snapped. “He’ll not lead these men astray with his clever words.”

“I agree,” said Crispin. “Paul doesn’t need to be led by clever words. He just needs to be led by the Spirit.”

Paul looked at the men who accused him. Even in this unhappy situation, he felt compassion for these—the leading men of Israel—who were so blinded. He looked at the Sadducees whose mix of piety and politics had secured their position in the Temple. And then there were the Pharisees—caretakers of the Law whose zeal was heartfelt—but misguided. Odd that these two groups should come together when they disagreed on so much. Paul smiled.
That was it!

“My brothers, I am a Pharisee, the son of a Pharisee,” Paul said. “I stand on trial because of my hope in the resurrection of the dead.”

The Sanhedrin looked at each other. They waited a further defense from Paul, but he merely reaffirmed his belief in a resurrection of the dead. Paul waited for his bait to be taken by one of these groups. It didn’t take long.

“We don’t care about that,” said a Sadducee. “This is a trial, not a session on ridiculous theological notions.”

“Ridiculous?” asked a Pharisee. “We agree that this is a trial and not a discourse. But the resurrection of the dead is far from ridiculous. It is truth.”

“It is nonsense, my friend,” countered another Sadducee. “But that’s for another time. Let’s get this trial over with.”

“You just want him tried because he is a Pharisee and believes in the resurrection of the dead!” another Pharisee shouted. “Perhaps an angel of the Lord spoke to him about these things!”

“Brothers, please,” Ananias pleaded. “Not today.”

Within minutes, the Sanhedrin had disintegrated into a shouting match as the Jews loudly debated the resurrection of the dead. Paul could not help but enjoy the fruit of his words. He looked at Ananias, the high priest, who could only scowl at him as he tried to regain order in the house. Finally the Roman sentries came in, took Paul back into their custody, and restored order.

The angels in the room watched as the trial descended into a melee of theological discourse. Crispin and Serus were amused at the events that had transpired. Pellecus looked at the room with astonishment. Stupid, prideful humans!

“Can they not get anything right?” Pellecus finally bellowed. “I deliver Paul into their hands, and they squander the moment for this idiotic debate. Paul tricked them.”

“So he won’t use clever words, Crispin?” asked Berenius.

“I said he would be led of the Spirit,” said Crispin. “And the Spirit happens to be very clever indeed!”

Chronicles of the Host

Caesarea was Herod the Great’s nod to Augustus. Built on a promontory jutting out into the waters, the city had become the largest harbor in the Mediterranean. Herod amassed a fortune from the revenues collected from the harbor and used the money for his many building projects, including the palace in the city that now housed Paul.

Felix, the governor, received Paul from Jerusalem and placed him under very comfortable house arrest. Paul had the run of the palace, so long as he didn’t venture out of the complex.

But this would be a brief respite, for the enemy was already working the next phase of the plan to destroy Paul.

As a governor in a restless province, Felix had one main goal: to keep the peace. Every governor in this region had faced the fickle behavior of the Jews. Now he had in his own house this man Paul, who was a mystery. Here was a man who was clearly not a threat. A Jew. An educated man. A man of letters and discourse. Just the sort who these elite Jewish leaders would consort with. And yet …

“Your excellency!”

“Yes, Drusus. What is it?”

“Ananias has come down from Jerusalem,” Drusus said.

“Ananias?” pondered Felix. “Which one is he?”

“The high priest, excellency.”

“Ah, yes. Paul. Very well, let’s get this over with.”

Drusus turned to leave. “But I tell you, Drusus. I like Paul. I hope he makes tatters of them all!”

Drusus smiled and nodded his head in agreement.