Chapter 43 – Attacked in Jerusalem
Narration
Acts 21:17-22:29
Paul was back in Jerusalem. Since his conversion, he had spent very little time there – in the centre of Jewish life. His busy life had been spent in travelling, preaching, teaching and supporting, but now his freedom was coming to an end.
All the leaders of the believers were glad to see him, and eager to hear the news of his latest work across the
empire. But they were also a little concerned that there could be trouble due to reports among believers that Paul had abandoned the Jewish law. A plan was put in place to show the doubters that Paul was just as much a follower of the law as anyone else. Some of the brethren at the time required rites of purification, and the idea was to have Paul join them and pay their expenses. This was to take seven days.
The seven days were almost completed when trouble broke like a storm. Some visiting Jews from Asia recognised Paul as a hated enemy. Having seen Trophimus from Ephesus in the city with Paul, they jumped to the completely baseless conclusion that Paul had taken Trophimus into the temple. They rushed around and shouted and caused all the trouble they could until the whole temple area was in an uproar.
Their main hope was to kill Paul quickly, but the commander of the Roman garrison heard the uproar and hurried into the temple court, snatching Paul from their clutches before they could kill him.
Instead of rejoicing that he was still alive, Paul saw an opportunity to speak to the crowd, so he
asked the commander for permission to do so. It was granted and Paul spoke. He told of his conversion, explaining how there could be no doubt that Jesus was alive, and the crowd listened enraptured. Then he repeated Jesus’ momentous words, “Go! For I will send you far away to the Gentiles.” That did it. Cloaks and dust filled the air along with shouts demanding his immediate death. If the Roman soldiers had not hurriedly carried Paul up the stairs into
the barracks, it is unlikely he would have remained in one piece.
The commander wanted to find out the cause of the disturbance, so he had Paul stretched out with ropes in preparation for scourging. Paul enquired politely whether it was lawful to scourge a Roman citizen. It wasn’t, of course, and the supervisor quickly spoke to his commander in forceful terms, “Be careful what
you do! He is a Roman citizen.” After some to-ing and fro-ing Paul was released from the ropes, but kept in custody overnight.
Chapter 44 – Before the Council
Narration
Acts 22:30-23:11
Next day, the chief priests and all
the council were gathered to hear Paul. After Paul publicly claimed to have a clear conscience before God, the angry high priest ordered him to be struck on the mouth.
Paul weighed up the options and quickly recognised that the easiest way to handle the council was to divide it in two. And the easiest way to divide it was to use the ancient quarrel: resurrection. Pharisees
accepted the doctrine of resurrection, while Sadducees did not. Paul’s ruse worked dramatically, and the council stopped examining him and fell to arguing among themselves.
As voices rose and the argument grew hotter and hotter, the commander was afraid it would escalate out of control. He sent in his troops and they carried off Paul to the barracks.
On the following night, Jesus stood at Paul’s side and told him that he must be a witness to Jesus in Rome.
Chapter 45 – To Caesarea by Night
Narration
Acts 23:12-33
Next day, the Jews came up with a plot. Clever and simple, but doomed to failure, nevertheless.
The scheme was to notify the commander that the council wanted to examine Paul again, but when he was sent to the council, the plotters would murder him on the way.
More than forty men committed themselves to the plot, vowing to refuse all food and drink until they had killed Paul.
Somehow, the son of Paul’s sister heard of the plan and passed it on to Paul, who asked a centurion to take the young man to the commander. After hearing of
the plot, the commander made some quick plans. Perhaps it was a massive overreaction, but it worked.
Two hundred soldiers, seventy horsemen and two hundred spearmen were dispatched that night to rush Paul to the governor in Caesarea. They also carried a note whose message was almost true, but claimed a little more credit for the commander than
was really justified.
That night, they went to Antipatris, and the following day the horsemen continued with Paul to Caesarea, while the rest returned to Jerusalem.
This story cannot tell whether the plotters kept
their vows. If they did, then they surely died before Paul, for he was safely in Caesarea and would not leave Roman custody there for two years.
Sketch 45.1 Overkill
Just received orders. We’re heading off at 9 o’clock tonight. Not sure who’s going or what for, but from the stir in the barracks, it looks like a big deal.
And, joy of joys, they’ve warned us to make sure we’re topped up with food for the night. It can’t be all bad if they’re giving us more food!
Could it be a training drill just to keep us on our toes? Or are the Jews planning some sort of rebellion?
It was a long night.
A long, hard night – even for us Roman soldiers.
After my last diary note, we were told to quiet down. Too much noise, too much excitement: the Jews would be suspicious, they said. I asked if they wanted us to walk around whistling happily and singing
unconcerned songs, but the centurion told me to shut up and get ready quietly. So I went to the mess and topped up with rations. Couldn’t forget that!
It had been dark for more than an hour when we set off.
And no wonder there had been a big stir – we took half the troops in Jerusalem with us! Would you believe it? Two hundred of us soldiers
armed with swords, seventy horsemen following us, and two hundred spearmen bringing up the rear.
Despite the heat of the summer night, we were told to hurry – and be on the alert for any groups of Jews that might look suspicious. Personally, I’ve always reckoned that they all look suspicious!
Anyway, we poured out of the gates of the fortress and marched
at a fast clip towards the Fish Gate. I was in the vanguard, carrying torches to clear the way through the darkened streets. We were all a bit on edge, and some shouted out in Aramaic to any we met to Make way for Caesar’s army! They all know what happens if they don’t, so they scuttled away into side streets and we hurried on.
I was glad when we reached the gate without any drama. The Jews know their
city streets better than we do, and when ten of them disappear down a side street, you can never be sure a hundred won’t come out of the next side street! I’ve never seen it personally, of course, but one hears stories.
We got through the gate without trouble and soon joined the main road heading north. It’s a good road – built by us Romans, of course. The sky was clear and the moon perfect for our journey.
The centurion told me that’s why the tribune instructed us to set off at 9pm, just as the moon rose. He said it would be a “waning gibbous moon”, but it just looked like an ordinary sort of three-quarters moon to me.
So the light was almost as good as it gets at night, and we marched off as the moon rose in the east.
Marching at night is a bit of an
art. It works better if the ranks can spread out a bit to minimise the shadows, but the tribune had warned the centurions to stay close together for at least the first hour. So we stumbled a bit, but it really wasn’t too bad. I was just glad I wasn’t one of the horsemen. I’ve never trusted horses to keep their feet at all, let alone in the dark! Not since that old nag fell under me riding down a hill at home when I was about ten. Nevertheless, there were no
disasters last night, and the shadows grew less of a problem as the moon climbed up in the sky.
After an hour or two, we were marching easily, in a good rhythm, and our centurion seemed to relax a bit. He didn’t seem to mind us chatting, and the news went up and down the line that all this great troop movement was to deliver one man – just one! – to Felix the governor in Caesarea.
Well, then I had to know just who this mega-important man was! With no fewer than 470 of Rome’s superlative fighting men assigned to protect him, he must at least be someone from the senate, maybe even a relative of the emperor!
“It must be one of Nero’s friends,” said my friend Gaius. “Otherwise, he’d let him travel without protection.”
“And probably tell his enemies where he was going,” I laughed.
In the dark, I couldn’t be sure, but I think it was the centurion who answered from a few ranks back at the head of the main body of troops, “Or have us deliver him to them.”
That was a new thought. Perhaps the centurion was right and this was one of the emperor’s
powerful enemies in the senate – another enemy to be dealt with in the dead of night!
We left the high country as the night grew older and colder and finally saw Antipatris in the distance as the light spread over the plains.
I was tired as we marched into the town – almost too tired to appreciate its beauty and the grand architecture which shows clearly whose
hand constructed it. Herod the Great was a great builder alright, but another of these dangerous tyrants. As the emperor Augustus is said to have observed, “I’d rather be Herod’s pig than his son.”
But I digress.
With 470 men, our contingent greatly outnumbered the town garrison, but I still hoped to be able to get some food from them while we rested
for a while. And that’s how it turned out. So now, we’re having a little rest. Then the next challenge begins. You see, we’d barely arrived before we were told that we soldiers and spearman are to return to Jerusalem today while the horsemen take our special charge on to Caesarea.
I’m not looking forward to that! Walking down from the heights of Jerusalem in a night wasn’t too bad, but the thought
of climbing back up again in the heat of a summer’s day without proper sleep and nowhere near enough food is daunting.
However, we can’t leave Jerusalem with half of her troops missing. It wouldn’t be long before the Jews tried to take advantage of our weakness. So we have to get back there quickly.
I still haven’t found out who our mysterious
mega-important charge is, though.
It was a long day’s walk, but we made it back to Jerusalem after all. True, it was well and truly dark before we arrived, but it was an amazing achievement. And we’ve had plenty of extra rations as a reward!
It’s been a tough 24 hours – after all, we spent almost 20 of those hours marching.
70 miles[1] we marched, and my feet are reminding me of every one of them. Hopefully we can have a few days’ rest now!
But we are Roman soldiers: we fulfilled our task, and that’s what matters. The man we were protecting was delivered
safely to Antipatris.
Now we catch up on sleep.
But who was that mega-important man? Royalty? Aristocracy? Patrician? Tomorrow I must find out…
Notes
[1] 70 Roman miles is about 104
kilometres
[To be continued]
