Shaul of Tarsos

Oh Lord, Shaul cried, they drove nails through his hands to hold him to the cross.  And there is a big gash in his belly.  There are marks from the whip on his chest.  His back must be covered with such marks.

Shaul had to try to understand all this.  He needed to marshal his thoughts and stop his body from shaking.  He could not do it.  He could almost feel the nails going through his own hands.  How much could one man endure?  Did they have to do all this to him?

But surely Gabriel was right.  It was necessary for the Romans to dispose of him without delay and put an end to the confusion.  It would be better for all Jews this way.  And Gabriel might be right about the meshiha--a silly notion that people clung to out of despair.  There would be no meshiha.

But just suppose it were possible.  A man born destined to head a new kingdom.  Perhaps even a man who could transcend death--like Dionysos or Osiris.  Pagan nonsense!  A Jew should know better.  There was nothing to see here but a man slowly dying.  He could not possibly become King of Yehud, let alone a god.

Yet there was something more than the death of a man that Shaul beheld, something he struggled in vain to grasp, and he cried again for help that did not come:  Oh, my Lord, he keeps looking at me.  His eyes seem to bore into my soul, just as the nails bore into his flesh.  I feel a stabbing in my chest.  Who spoke just now?  Someone said my name, someone calling me--SHAUL!--but there is no one standing that close to me.  I must have imagined it, but it sounded too real--as if that man on the cross were trying to say something to me.  I must leave this place and put it out of my mind.  It did not help to see this.  I didn’t need to see it.  I didn’t want to see it.  And the voice is not real.  I don’t want to think about it.  If anyone asks, I shall say I was not here.  No, I was not here!

He struggled to move.  His feet felt rooted to the spot, but he managed to turn from the brutal scene and staggered back to the city gate.  He had not found the understanding he had sought, and he could not put the matter out of his mind.  He had seen death in all its stages, and he had to let it go at that.  Somehow he performed all the actions needed to complete the day--returning home, nibbling on an evening meal, and retiring to bed.

For a long time he lay awake.  Over and over, he told himself that every life ends in death and that with the death of the man on the cross, his own life would go on as usual.  He drifted into sleep, and in his dreams a gaunt figure with intense eyes appeared and said, “I am the resurrection and the life, and you are the one who must light the way to salvation.”