The Epic of Paul

by William Cleaver Wilkinson

"Amen!" in fervent chorus, Krishna heard
Break, soft and solemn, from the lips of all,
With Mary, who then thus her tale renewed:
"Before His passion in Gethsemane
And on the cross loomed nigh enough to Him
To cast its solemn shadow deep and dark
Over His prophet mind and over us,
We had been walking joyous through the land,
Green flowery land it was of hill and dale,
With flocks and herds, and villages of men,
The land of Galilee, gushing with springs,
And spreading fair her lake Gennesaret,
Now placid a pure mirror to the sky,
Anon tumultuous, if rash wing of wind
Swooped down upon it from the mountain shore—
We had been walking through this lovely land
With Jesus, He, like sower gone forth to sow,
Scattering His gifts of healing everywhere
Broadcast about Him as He passed along;
Or sometimes feeding the great multitudes
That, like to sheep having no shepherd, thronged
His way, feeding them freely from a hand
That multiplied the bounty it bestowed;—
It was like journeying sphered with journeying spring
Created for us where we set our feet;
Our hearts were garlanded as for festival,
So gladsome was it to behold our King
Advancing in such progress through the land
And lavishing such largess on His poor.
But largess of beneficence from His hand
Was nothing to the largess from His lips
Of wisdom and of grace and of good news—
To the obedient; the rebellious He
Judgments and terrors dire announced against
That fastened and kindled like Gehenna fire.
I was baptized with shuddering but to hear
The woes leap living from those holy lips—
Which then nigh seemed to smoke like Sinai top
With indignation—on the Pharisees,
The Sadducees, the lawyers, and the scribes,
Unworthy found and judged for hypocrites.
Most fearful as most fair theophany, He!
One looked to see them flame, as lightning-struck,
Those cities of people that rejected Him,
Bethsaida, Chorazin, and that proud
Capernaum, when on them His woes He launched,
Hurtling them from His mouth like thunderbolts.

"To ears fresh wounded from such frightful woes,
How balmy and how healing were these words
Cadenced ineffably from those same lips:
'Come unto Me, all ye that labor, ye
That heavy laden are, come ye, and I
Will give you rest. My yoke upon you take
And learn of Me, for meek and lowly in heart
Am I, and ye rest to your souls shall find.'

"With invitation or with warning He
Or with most sweet instruction heavenly wise,
Our soul, our senses, feasting thus, the while
He wrought too with that easy omnipotence
His manifold mighty miracles of grace,
We walked long time with Jesus; how long time
I know not, for the days and weeks they came
And went unnoted and the seasons changed.
But at last He, how shall I say it? became
Almost a different being from Himself.
He spake of a mysterious hour, 'Mine hour,'
He called it with some solemn meaning, what,
We could not or we did not then divine,
Couched in the word; that hour was now drawn near.
It seemed to frown upon Him imminent
And cast a somber shadow on His face.
He dreaded it, and yet He welcomed it,
Hasting the more to meet it as it neared.

"We were afraid of Him, with a new fear,
He looked so awful in His loneliness.
For He no longer with us walked; He walked
Before us, hasting to Jerusalem.
How steadfastly His face was thither set!
He as if saw the features of His hour
Coming out clearer and clearer, and always there!
He now would oftentimes His chosen twelve
Take from the rest apart to tell them how
The Son of Man, oft so He named Himself,
Should be delivered up to the chief priests
And to the scribes, and be by them condemned
To death; and how the Gentiles in their turn
Should mock Him and should scourge Him and should spit
Upon Him and should kill Him; then how He
Should from the dead the third day rise again.
But they those sayings understood not then,
So simple and easy afterward, though strange.
Like a refrain recurring in a song,
Some sad refrain that lingers in the ear
Persistent through whatever else is sung,
So did these doubtful boding prophecies
Again and yet again, not understood,
At intervals return amid the strain
Of other teaching opulent and sweet
That flowed and flowed in changes without end,
Unending, from His lips. And all the while
Were miracles and signs, as by the way
And little reckoned, dropping from His hands
Like full-ripe fruit from an unconscious tree!

"And so it came to pass that we at length
Were nigh to Bethphagé and Bethany.
Here resting, to a village opposite
Our Master sent to fetch an ass's colt
Appointed for His use, one virgin yet
Of touch from human rider to his back;
Thereon the lowly King sat Him to ride.
How little did what we saw follow look
Like the fulfilment of ill-boding words!
For now the people flung their garments down
Before Him in the way, they branches strewed
From trees on either side to keep the feet
Of even that ass's colt which He bestrode
From touching the base ground, the while a shout
Went up, one voice, from the great multitude
Before Him and behind Him where He rode,
'Hosanna to the Son of David! Lo,
Blesséd is He that cometh in the name
Of the Lord God! Hosanna in the highest!'
How little then to us, blind eyes, it looked
As if this march triumphal of our King
Was to a death of shame upon the cross!"

With wondering interruption Julius asked:
"But how, but wherefore, was it thus? No crime
Had Jesus done; and what suspicion even
Of crime intended by him could there lie
In any mortal's mind against a man
So wise so pure and so beneficent
As he was in the obvious view of all?"
He added: "I could understand how some,
Offended at his stern rebuke of them
Before the people, might in secret wish
His death, might plot it, and might compass it,
By private means of murder; but how one
Like Jesus should fall under law, be tried
In open forum as criminal, be found
Guilty, be sentenced, and be put to death,
All as in process due of justice, that
I cannot understand, that baffles me.
And under Roman rule and government!
For crucifixion seems to mean so much.
Perhaps some reason of state demanded it:
Justice must often yield to reasons of state."

"A reason of state," said Paul, "was the pretext,
And but pretext it was, the real ground not.
With deep hypocrisy my nation came
And pleaded to thy nation against Him
Pretension on His part to be a king,
Saying, 'We have no king but Cæsar;' so
Falsely affecting loyalty to Rome,
And therewith falsely too attainting Him
Of treason in purpose to dispute with Cæsar
His claim of worldly lordship over them.
Thy nation, Julius, with full equal deep
Hypocrisy, believing the charge no more
Than they believed who brought it, washed its hands
Vainly of guilt, condemning innocent blood.
Jew joined with Gentile, Gentile joined with Jew,
In one conclusive act of wickedness,
That the whole world at once might before God
Be guilty of the death of Christ His Son;
Our sin it was that slew the Lamb of God!"

While the centurion hung confounded, dumb
With silence that half conscience-smitten seemed,
Pondering Paul's words, charged, heavy charged, with blame
Involving him too in complicity
Of guilt with the whole world for Jesus' death—
A messenger from Felix came once more;
This time to Julius with a letter sealed.
Julius, unready for intrusion such
Upon that moment's privacy of thought,
With petulant gesture broke the seal and read
These brusque words, which, though writ with other's hand,
Were self-shown straight from Felix's own heart;
No salutation, and no signature,
Ambages none of complaisance or form,
Frank unrelieved mock-kingly insolence,
Drusilla's phrase, but spirit Felix's:
"Does it become a Roman officer
Honored with grave responsibility
As thou art for the custody and safe
Conduct of arrant criminals to Rome,
To be consorting with the chief of these
In affable familiar intercourse?
How thinkest thou? If report were brought to Rome
Of such acquittal of the office thine,
Would it seem well? Dost thou judge nothing at all
Due from thee to the dignity of trust
Received from the august imperial hand?
Is such thy measure of the faith required
In one of Cæsar's deputies? Or thou
Perhaps at heart art Christian: ask thyself
If thine be a religio licita!
Apostate from the emperor to Christ
Am I to recognize in thee? Judge then
What duty will demand from me arrived
At Rome, me who am loyal still to him,
Nero Augustus Cæsar named with gods!"

These things read Julius with a knitted brow
That discomposure with resentment showed;
Then mastering himself to courtesy
Wherein some air of condescension played,
He made his peace by gesture without word,
And slowly, like one doubting, went away.

With nothing said or signed to set in light
The meaning of the message thus conveyed,
Paul from the person of the messenger,
Well-known a slave of Felix's, divined
The meaning mischievous, but kept his thought
And only said: "With the centurion now
Our guest no longer, and the day so far
Declined from its meridian, meet perhaps
It were to let our interrupted tale
From Mary—thanks to whom once more we owe—
Rest till to-morrow, if to-morrow be
Ours, and the weather then still smile as now:
God will still smile, through weather fair or foul.
And now to God our Father blessing be,
From whom all blessing is, and to His Son,
And to the Holy Ghost. Amen!"