Chapter
Eighteen
And so it came to pass that Hafid waited in his lonely palace for he who was to receive the scrolls. The old man, with only his trusted bookkeeper for a companion, watched the seasons come and go, and the infirmities of old age soon prevented him from doing little except sit quietly in his covered garden.
He waited.
He waited nearly three full years after the disposal of his worldly wealth and the disbanding of his trade empire.
And then from out of the desert to the East there appeared a slight, limping figure of a stranger who entered Damascus and made straightway through the streets until he stood before the palace of Hafid.
Erasmus, usually a model of courtesy and propriety, remained resolutely in the doorway as the caller repeated his request, “I wouldst speak with thy master.” The stranger‟s appearance was not one to inspire confidence. His sandals were ripped and mended with rope, his brown legs were cut and scratched and had sores in many places, and above them hung a loose and tattered camel‟s hair
loincloth. The man‟s hair was snarled and long and his eyes, red from the sun,
seemed to burn from within.
Erasmus held tightly to the door handle. “What is it thou seeketh of my sire?” The stranger allowed his sack to fall from his shoulders and clenched both hands in prayer toward Erasmus. “Please, kind man, grant me an audience with thy master. I mean him no harm nor seek I alms. Let him hear my words and then I will go in haste if I offend him.”
Erasmus, still unsure, slowly opened the door and nodded toward the interior. Then he turned without looking back and walked swiftly toward the garden with his visitor limping behind. In the garden, Hafid dozed, and Erasmus hesitated before his master. He coughed and Hafid stirred. He coughed again and the old man opened his eyes. “Forgive this disturbance, master, but there is a caller.”
Hafid, now awake, sat up and shifted his gaze to the stranger who bowed and spoke. “Art thou he who has been called the greatest salesman in the world?” Hafid frowned but nodded, “I have been called that in years now gone. No longer is that crown on my old head. What seeketh thee of me?”
The small visitor stood self-consciously before Hafid and rubbed his hands over his matted chest.
He blinked his eyes in the soft light and replied, “I am called Saul and I return now, from Jerusalem, to my birthplace in Tarsus. However, I beg you, let not my appearance deceive you. I am not a bandit from the wilderness nor am I a beggar of the streets. I am a citizen of Tarsus and also a citizen of Rome. My people are Pharisees of the Jewish tribe of Benjamin and although I am a tent maker by trade, I have studied under the great Gamaliel.
Some call me Paul.”
He swayed as he spoke and Hafid, not fully awake until this moment, apologetically motioned for his visitor to sit. Paul nodded but remained standing. “I come to thee for guidance and help which
only you can give. Will you permit me, sire, to tell my story?”
Erasmus, standing behind the stranger, shook his head violently, but Hafid pretended not to notice. He studied the intruder of his sleep carefully and then nodded, “I am too old to continue to look up at thee. Sit at my feet and I will hear you through.”
Paul pushed his sack aside and knelt near the old man who waited in silence. “Four years ago, because the accumulated knowledge of too many years of study had blinded my heart to truth, I was the official witness to the stoning, in Jerusalem, of a holy man called Stephen. He had been condemned to death by the Jewish Sanhedrin for blasphemy against our God.” Hafid interrupted with puzzlement in his voice, “I do not understand how I am connected with this activity.”
Paul raised his hand as if to calm the old man. “I will explain quickly. Stephen was a follower of a man called Jesus, who less than a year before the stoning of Stephen, was crucified by the Romans for sedition against the state. Stephen‟s guilt was his insistence that Jesus was the Messiah whose coming had been foretold by the Jewish prophets, and that the Temple had conspired with Rome to
murder this son of God. This rebuke to those in authority could only be punishable with death and as I have already told thee, I participated.
“Furthermore, with my fanaticism and youthful zeal, I was supplied with letters from the high priest of the Temple and entrusted with the mission of journeying here to Damascus to search out every follower of Jesus and return them in chains to Jerusalem for punishment. This was, as I have said, four years ago.” Erasmus glanced at Hafid and was startled, for there was a look in the old man‟s
eyes which had not been seen by the faithful bookkeeper in many years. Only the splash of fountain water could be heard in the garden until Paul spoke once more.
“Now as I approached Damascus with murder in my heart there was a sudden flash of light from the heavens. I remember not having been struck but I found myself on the ground and although I could not see, I could hear, and I heard a voice in my ear say, „Saul, Saul, why do you persecute me?‟ I answered, „Who are you?‟ and the voice replied, „I am Jesus, whom you are persecuting; but rise
and enter the city, and you will be told what to do.‟
“I arose and was led by the hands of my companions into Damascus and there I was not able to eat or drink for three days while I remained in the house of a follower of the crucified one. Then I was visited by another called Ananias, who said he had been visited in a vision and told to come to me. Then he laid his hands upon my eyes and I could see again. Then I ate, and I drank, and my strength returned.”
Hafid now leaned forward from his bench and inquired, “What then took place?” “I was brought to the synagogue and my presence as a persecutor of the followers of Jesus struck fear into the hearts of all his followers but I preached nevertheless and my words confounded them, for now I spoke that he who had been crucified was indeed the Son of God.
“And all who listened suspected a trick of deceit on my part for had I not caused havoc in Jerusalem? I could not convince them of my change of heart and many plotted my death so I escaped over the walls and returned to Jerusalem. “In Jerusalem the happenings of Damascus repeated themselves. None of the followers of Jesus would come near me although word had been received of my
preaching in Damascus.
Nevertheless, I continued to preach in the name of Jesus but it was of no avail. Everywhere I spoke I antagonized those who listened until one day I went to the Temple and in the courtyard, as I watched the sale of doves and lambs for sacrifice, the voice came to me again.”
“This time what did it say?” Erasmus spoke before he could stop himself. Hafid smiled at his old friend and nodded for Paul to continue. “The voice said, Thou hast had the Word for nearly four years but thou hast shown few the light. Even the word of God must be sold to the people or they will hear it not. Did not I speak in parables so that all might understand? Thou wilt catch few flies with vinegar. Return to Damascus and seek out him who is acclaimed as the greatest salesman in the world. If thou wouldst spread my word to the world let him show you the way.‟ ”
Hafid glanced quickly at Erasmus and the old bookkeeper sensed the unspoken question. Was this the one for whom he had waited so long? The great salesman leaned forward and placed his hand on Paul‟s shoulder. “Tell me about this Jesus.” Paul, his voice now alive with new strength and volume, told of Jesus and his life. While the two listened, he spoke of the long Jewish wait for a Messiah who
would come and unite them within a new and independent kingdom of happiness and peace. He told of John the Baptist and the arrival, on the stage of history, of one called Jesus. He told of the miracles performed by this man, his lectures to the crowds, his raising of the dead, his treatment of the money changers, and he told of the crucifixion, burial, and resurrection.
Finally, as if to give further impact to his story, Paul reached into the sack at his side and removed a red garment which he placed in the lap of Hafid. “Sire, you hold in your arms all the worldly goods left behind by this Jesus. All that he possessed he shared with the world, even unto his life. And at the foot of his cross, Roman soldiers cast lots for this robe. It has come into my possession through much diligence and searching when I was last in Jerusalem.”
Hafid‟s face paled and his hands shook as he turned the robe stained with blood. Erasmus, alarmed at his master‟s appearance, moved closer to the old man. Hafid continued to turn the garment until he found the small star sewn into the cloth … the mark of Tola, whose guild made the robes sold by Pathros. Next to the star was a circle sewn within a square … the mark of Pathros. As Paul and Erasmus watched, the old man raised the robe and rubbed it gently against his cheek. Hafid shook his head. Impossible. Thousands of other robes were made by Tola and sold by Pathros in the years of his great trade route.
Still clutching the robe and speaking in a hoarse whisper, Hafid said, “Tell me what is known of the birth of this Jesus.” Paul said, “He left our world with little. He had entered it with less. He was born
in a cave, in Bethlehem, during the time of the census of Augustus.” Hafid‟s smile seemed almost childish to the two men, and they looked on with puzzlement, for tears also flowed down his wrinkled cheeks. He brushed them away with his hand and asked, “And was there not the brightest star that man has ever seen which shone above the birthplace of this baby?”
Paul‟s mouth opened yet he could not speak, nor was it necessary. Hafid raised his arms and embraced Paul, and this time the tears of both were mingled. Finally the old man arose and beckoned toward Erasmus. “Faithful friend, go to the tower and return with the chest. We have found our salesman at last.”
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