Church, Alfred J. – The Crown of Pine

The young Jew—I may say at once that he was Aquila—was not prepared for questions on the subject. In fact, it was by an oversight that the article in question had been included in the parcel, and he endeavoured to evade the subject. It was easy to see, however, that the questions were not put from mere idle curiosity. Pomponia had for some years been attracted by what she [30] had heard of the Jewish faith. It may be easily understood that the religious traditions in which she had been brought up failed to satisfy her. It was indeed almost impossible for a Roman man or woman of the time to be at once intelligent and devout. The old Italian faith, which was an elaborate nature-worship, in which every process or development of life had its presiding deity, had passed away. The gods and goddesses which Rome worshipped were practically those which the Greek literature had personified, being greater than man in strength and beauty, but below him in morals. (Footnote: The deities of the Roman poets, notably of Virgil, are practically Greek in character. Jupiter Capitolinus has become degraded to the level of the Olympian Zeus with all his lusts and caprices.)

The one characteristic Roman worship was that of the Deified Augustus, with whom were associated other princes of the Imperial house. Pomponia had not broken with the ordinary observances of private and public religion. At home she hung the usual garland on the family Lar, and saw that the usual offerings of food were placed before the image; in public, she attended such festivals as public opinion, now grown very lax in such matters, made obligatory. But these [31] devotions were perfunctory; her real thoughts in this province of her life were very different. What she heard from the Jew gave to these thoughts a definite shape. Little, of course, was said at the first interview. Aquila was naturally cautious and reticent. The Jew had every reason for not wearing his heart upon his sleeve, least of all in such a city as Rome, where the representatives of the official religion, augurs, and flamens, and pontiffs were so numerous and so powerful. But by degrees he took courage to speak more plainly and openly. As he set forth the Hebrew conception of God, the One and Undivided, the hearts of his hearers—for the young Fabia was not less interested and zealous than her friend—were greatly moved. The One Maker and Ruler of all things, dwelling in a serene region above all human passions, untouched by the anger, jealousies, caprices of favour and disfavour which degraded the gods of the old faith, yet ceaselessly careful for the wellbeing of His creatures, demanded and received their allegiance. As time went on, Aquila would bring a small scroll of his national scriptures, parts of the great work which we know as the version of the Seventy, the Septuagint. The two ladies were as familiar with Greek as with their own language, and they listened with rapt attention as Aquila read the pure and lofty [32] precepts of the Law, the outpourings of the Hebrew singers, touching, as they have done in every age, the joys and sorrows of the human heart, and the sublime utterances of the prophets. And all this time the young Jew was himself learning. He had renewed at Rome a friendship of his boyhood. His birthplace was the ancient city of Cabira in Pontus, and his closest companion in early days in lessons and in sport had been a young Jew who was a native of the same town. Their lots fell in different places. Andronicus, who claimed kinship with no less a person than St. Paul, had found employment at Alexandria. There his surroundings had been, as might be expected, wholly Greek, and he had assumed a Greek name. Such a name was more convenient for business, and, we may add, more agreeable to the hearing than the accidental or intentional mispronunciation of his own Hebrew appellation. From Alexandria he had come, at the call of business, to Rome, and at Rome he had chanced upon, or, may be, had been led to a meeting with his old friend Aquila. But Andronicus had had experiences which had not been vouchsafed to his friend. He had journeyed to Jerusalem some ten years before to attend the feast of Pentecost, and had witnessed events which were to influence profoundly the rest of his life. [33] He found the congregation or synagogue (Footnote: I follow the opinion that two synagogues of Greek-speaking Jews are mentioned in Acts vi., one including the visitors from Cyrene and Alexandria, the other those from Cilicia (in which Tarsus, of course, would be included) and Asia (the Roman province of that name comprising the north-west corner of Asia Minor).) to which he naturally attached himself (that supported by natives of, or visitors from, the two great Greek cities of Northern Africa, Cyrene and Alexandria) in a state of the greatest excitement. The preaching of a young Jew, Stephen by name, had moved them profoundly, rousing an angry hostility in most, admiration in a few, wonder in all. Andronicus was a devout soul, and he had the open mind which often goes with the devoutness that can pierce beneath forms and names to the very heart of religion. And he had had the immense advantage of hearing at Alexandria the teaching of the great Philo. Philo, though he seems never to have heard of Christ, did in a manner prepare the way for Him. Disciples who listened to him intelligently were prepared for the doctrine of a Divine Word proceeding from the supreme Jehovah. The preaching of Stephen put their vague ideas into shape. This Divine Word had actually dwelt upon earth; he was the Master to whom Stephen and his fellow [34] believers—“the Way,” as they had come to be called in Jerusalem—proclaimed their allegiance. Every time that Andronicus listened to the fervent eloquence of the young preacher, his conviction that the hope of the Hebrew race had found its fulfilment grew stronger. Then came the tragical end, the savage outburst which seemed to silence this wonderful voice, but in reality gave it new power and a wider audience. Andronicus was present when the sudden rage of the crowd vented itself upon the man whom it could not silence by argument. He was carried, against his will, by the rush of the angry multitude into the meeting place of the Seventy. There he had seen the face of the accused glowing with a noble rage, (Footnote: Compare the words (probably derived by Luke from St. Paul, who then related an experience of his own), “And all that sat in the council, looking steadfastly on him, saw his face as it had been the face of an angel,” with St. Matthew’s account of the descent of the angel at the Resurrection (xxviii. 3): “His countenance was like lightning, and his raiment white as snow, and for fear of him the keepers did shake, and became as dead men.”) and had listened to the great defence which the impetuosity of the orator so soon turned into a great attack. His voice, with the voices of a few companions who sympathized with him, were raised in ineffectual protest against the savage cries which clamoured for the speaker’s [35] death. He had even followed in the faint hope of rescuing the victim. Then he had been present at the last scene, and if anything had been wanting to complete the conviction that he had been listening to a messenger of God he found it then, in the majestic patience, in the divine forgiveness of the sufferer, in the irresistible appeal which no one who was present could ever have forgotten to a King throned far above the tumults of earth. Andronicus resolved at once to learn all that could be learnt about a matter in which he was so deeply interested. This for a time he found no easy task. There was a general flight of Christians from the city; those who remained were cautious of entering into communication with an unknown inquirer who might only be seeking to entrap them. But there were some who neither deserted their post, nor shunned any opportunity of avowing the Faith. The Apostles, protected by the reverence in which they were held, and possibly by their habit of devout attendance at the Temple, still remained in Jerusalem. Philip, whose Greek name seemed to indicate him as a proper person to approach, made no difficulty about seeing the young Alexandrian, and answering all his questions. For the next few weeks, Andronicus, as may easily be supposed, could think of nothing else. Day after day he [36] sat at the apostles’ feet and listened eagerly to the story of the Master’s life, impressive beyond all that we can conceive when heard from the lips of an eye witness. When the time came for him to return to his home, whither he was called on business that could not be any longer postponed, he petitioned to be admitted to baptism, nor did the apostles find any difficulty in granting the request of a disciple so well instructed, so intelligent, so thoroughly in earnest.

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