PAUL OF TARSUS
[137] AQUILA had not been many days in Corinth before he found that he was in closer contact with the new movement in religion, the “Way,” as it is commonly called in the earliest Church history, (Footnote: So in Acts ix. 2. Paul goes from Jerusalem to Damascus with the intention of laying hands on any whom he might find in the latter city “of the Way.” So again in Acts xix. 9 the unbelieving Jews are described as speaking evil of “the Way,” and in xxiv. 22, Felix the Roman governor, is said to have more perfect knowledge of “the Way.” The authorized version has “that way” in the passages; the revised version has “the Way” (spelling it with a capital letter).) than he had been in Rome. Paul, the great preacher of the Christian faith, had been for some time carrying it westward. It had but lately reached Europe, and was but little known there, but it had become a power in a region which was in close communication with Europe, the lesser Asia. On the second day after Aquila had taken over the business mentioned in the last chapter, he found on arriving at the ware- [138] house that a visitor was waiting to see him. The stranger explained that he had business relations with Aquila’s predecessor, and that he had come to find out why an order which he had sent had not been executed. He was, he said, a merchant of Ephesus, and his name was Trophimus. The business affair was soon disposed off, but not till the stranger had been favourably impressed with the intelligence and general demeanour of the new manager. Conversation turned to general topics; and as various matters of interest common to both were discussed, was prolonged to the time of the noonday meal. Aquila invited his customer to join him, not a little to the latter’s surprise, a feeling which he could not help betraying by his looks, though he was, of course, too polite to express it in words.
“You are thinking,” said Aquila with a smile, “that this is a somewhat unusual civility for one of my race to show to one of yours.”
“I must own,” answered Trophimus, “that the thought did cross my mind. Of course there are Jews who are ‘hail, fellow, well met’ with any one who will treat them to a flagon of wine; but they are not of your sort. As a rule, I much prefer dealing with men who, outside business, keep me very strictly at arm’s length. It is not exactly flattering to one’s pride, but [139] then I find that these men meet their engagements and the others do not. But I know some exceptions.”
“For myself,” said Aquila, “I have learnt, I hope, a more excellent way. I quite see that our old exclusiveness had its use and purpose. We had to keep ourselves separate from the world, because we were taking care of something which we could not take care of in any other way. But that is all over now. In Him,” he went on, speaking as it were to himself, “there is neither Jew nor Greek.”
Trophimus caught eagerly at the words. “What!” he cried, “did I hear you aright? ‘In Him there is neither Jew nor Greek?’ These are the very words I have heard again and again in the mouth of one of the very noblest of men.”
“And who is that?” asked Aquila.
“Paul of Tarsus,” was the answer.
“Ah,” said Aquila, “I have heard something about him, and have always wanted, I cannot say how much, to hear more. And you know him?”
“Yes,” replied the Greek, “it is my privilege to know him. Indeed, I may venture to call him my friend.”
“This,” said Aquila, “this is the happiest of [140] fortunes. But come, we must put off this talk, which must not on any account be hurried over, till we are more at leisure. The meal is waiting for us.”
As the two sat at table, the talk naturally turned to the subject of the family from whom Aquila had taken over the business. Trophimus was particularly anxious to hear what had been done with Eubulus, “a most promising lad,” he remarked, “and likely, according to all accounts, to distinguish himself greatly.”
Aquila briefly related what had taken place, and did not fail to explain that what had been done in the matter had been done at his wife’s suggestion.
“For myself,” he went on, “I must own that I feel a little doubtful about it. Very likely you will think it a prejudice. Now what do you think your friend Paul would say to it?”
“Well,” replied Trophimus, “that is not a very easy thing to answer. I cannot imagine him going as a spectator to see a foot-race or anything else of the kind. That would not be at all in his way. He has his thoughts wholly fixed on other things; he is not one who would dream of amusing himself in that, or indeed in any other way. But I don’t suppose that he looks upon these things as wrong. And I will tell [141] you why I think so. I have heard him speak of them over and over again. He uses them as convenient images and comparisons for the spiritual things which it is his business to speak about, and to bring home to the minds of others. For instance he makes a great point of discipline; a man must not let himself be led away by the desires of the flesh. I have heard him, when he was preaching on this subject, use a metaphor which he borrowed from the boxing-ring. ‘I buffet my body,’ (Footnote: Hupo?piazo? is the phrase used by St. Paul in I Cor. ix. 27. The word means literally to strike a blow under the eyes; and is obviously a technical phrase which would be used by boxers.) was the term he used. There is another term of the same kind which I have heard him use, and taken from the same source. Our boxers have a way of practising their art at a lay figure or a post. We call it ‘shadow fighting.’ Well; I heard Paul say that the disciple’s conflict with enemies, without and within, was to be nothing of that kind. He was not to be as one that beats the air. Then I have heard him speaking of life as a training, as a race, where the runner must keep his eye fixed on the goal. (Footnote: The runner, it was commonly said, was most likely to faint when his eye was turned away from the end of the race.) Now I don’t think that he would use this language if he thought that there was absolute [142] wrong in these things. They don’t appeal to him; how should they when his heart is so taken up with his work? but he is quite willing to make them serve his purpose in his own way.”
“All this,” said Aquila, “I am very glad to hear, and so will my wife be. It has troubled her that we did not quite see eye to eye in the matter.”
This was the first of many conversations. Nor was Trophimus the only acquaintance with whom he discussed the same subject. Attending on the next Sabbath the synagogue worship, he was much struck with a stranger who had been asked to officiate. This man, whose name was Achaicus, was a Jew, a resident in another of the Asiatic towns which had business with Corinth. He came of a family of Scribes and had been educated accordingly, but had been compelled by various circumstances to follow commercial life. He was known, however, for his piety and learning, and on his not unfrequent visits to Corinth he was commonly asked to officiate. The Jewish community was wholly mercantile, and the persons qualified to lead the service were few in number. The stranger asked for the roll of the Prophet Isaiah, and read from it the passage which we know as the fifty-third chapter. The discourse which he afterwards delivered was [143] full of significance to at least one of his hearers. It was not, of course, such as a preacher of the present day might found on the passage. A distinct and direct identification of the majestic sufferer described by the prophet with Jesus of Nazareth would have been wholly out of place. The audience would have failed to understand it; or, if they did catch a glimpse of such a meaning, would have been offended. But to instructed ears, such as were Aquila’s, what was said had much meaning. He eagerly seized the earliest opportunity of conversing with the stranger, and heard more about the great preacher’s ways of thinking than Trophimus had been able to tell him. It would not serve any useful purpose to attempt to reproduce the account which Achaicus gave of Paul. Much that he said had come to him by common report and was naturally inexact and exaggerated. We all know that contemporary history is sometimes that of which our knowledge is the least accurate. Anyhow, we may be certain that the narrative of the Apostle’s faithful companion during the later years of his life (Footnote: St. Luke, the author of the Acts.) and the reference in his own letters to the Christian Churches give us a far better idea of what he was and what he taught than we could get from the impressions [144] of one so situated as was Achaicus, however sincere his devotion. One story, however, may be given which, though not included in the authentic record as we have it in the Canon of Scripture, has an undoubted foundation in fact. (Footnote: See note at the end of the book on The Acts of Thekla.)