CHAPTER 83

“Well,” Nero said when I had finished, “that was quite the dramatic speech. Perhaps you could join me on the stage sometime, Theophilus.”

To me, this was no laughing matter, and I did not grace the emperor with a smile.

“What did you think of the Greeks?” Nero asked Paul affably. “I read about your little presentation at the Areopagus.”

Paul stepped forward, but a big guard came over and held out his hand.

“The Greeks worship reason,” Paul said. “I preach that we are saved and forgiven by the sacrificial death of Jesus on a Roman cross. To the Greeks, that seemed like foolishness.”

“Not just to the Greeks,” Nero quipped.

Paul smiled. Unlike me, he looked relaxed. “At first it seemed like foolishness to me as well,” he admitted. “That’s the power of the gospel. It seems foolish to the intelligent but profound to the simple. It is said in the Jewish prophecies that God will destroy the wisdom of the wise and frustrate the intelligence of the intelligent.”

“Yes, yes,” Nero said, his voice dismissive. “But I prefer the Greek philosophers to the Jewish prophets.”

“‘Whoever yields willingly to fate is deemed wise among men,’” Paul said.

“The Stoics?”

“Precisely. May I explain how that kind of fate intervened in my life?”

“I’m not interested in the words of the Stoics. I tend to favor the Epicureans —men who appreciate the role of pleasure and sensuality.”

I watched this exchange in amazement —Nero and Paul discussing Greek philosophy as if they were sharing a glass of wine over dinner. I couldn’t tell how this impacted our case, but I had to think that Caesar was at least impressed with the breadth of knowledge possessed by the tattered man in front of him.

“‘When we say, then, that pleasure is the end and aim, we do not mean the pleasures of the prodigal or the pleasures of sensuality, as we are understood by some through ignorance, prejudice, or willful misrepresentation,’” Paul said, keeping his eyes fixed on Nero. “‘By pleasure we mean the absence of trouble in the soul. It is not through an unbroken succession of drinking bouts and revelry, not by sexual lust, nor the enjoyment of a luxurious table that we achieve a pleasant life.’”

Paul stopped for a breath, and I noticed that Nero’s face had darkened, his chin propped on his fist.

“Those are the words of Epicurus himself,” Paul said. “They have been largely forgotten.”

Caesar reached for a sip of wine. Paul took it as a cue to continue.

“There was a time,” Paul said, “when I was convinced I ought to do everything possible to oppose the name of Jesus of Nazareth. I had lived my life as a Jewish Pharisee and thought the followers of Jesus were a threat to the religion of my fathers. On the authority of the chief priest, I put many of the Lord’s people in prison, and when they were sentenced to death, I cast my vote against them. I was so obsessed with persecuting them that I hunted them down in foreign cities.”

Nero leaned back as Paul recited his tale, regarding the prisoner with a mixture of disdain and curiosity.

“On one of those journeys I was going to Damascus with the authority and commission of the chief priests. About noon, Your Excellency, I was blinded by a light from heaven brighter than the sun. I heard a voice saying to me, ‘Saul, Saul, why do you persecute me?’

“I asked who was speaking to me, and I heard an audible response, Caesar. The voice said, ‘I am Jesus, whom you are persecuting. Now get up and stand on your feet. I have appointed you as a witness to open the eyes of your own people and the Gentiles so that they might be delivered from the power of Satan and receive forgiveness for their sins.’”

Paul was animated now, his enthusiasm contagious. This was what he had dreamed of doing for the past two years. I could see the excitement in his eyes.

“From that day forward, I obeyed this vision from heaven. I was told later by a man named Ananias, a man who prayed over me and healed my blindness, that I would be a chosen vessel to bear the name of Jesus to the Jews, the Gentiles, and the Gentile kings. Since that day, I have preached everywhere that men should repent and turn to God. And now . . .”

Paul hesitated, overcome by the moment. He choked back his emotions and continued. “And now God has brought me here to testify to the most powerful king in the Gentile world about the truth, great Caesar. The Messiah suffered and died, but on the third day he rose from the dead. He has brought a message of light to you and all the Gentiles.

“He has set a day when he will judge the world with justice, and he has given proof of this to everyone by his resurrection from the dead. Now is the day of salvation. Now is the day for all men to repent.”

The speech moved me. Paul’s passion. His courage. The blunt truth that echoed in the great judgment hall.

But it was also a strategic blunder —the one thing I had warned Paul against. He had challenged the man who would decide his fate. He might as well have wagged his finger at the great emperor and accused him by name. He had claimed that there was a judge greater than Nero who would punish the emperor and everyone else who didn’t repent.

Nobody spoke to Nero that way. And you could see the derision in the humorless smirk that curled his lips.

After a few seconds of silence, Nero managed a wry smile. “I noticed from the manuscripts that during one of your trials Governor Festus called you insane. I’m beginning to think the man had a point.”

A few servants in Nero’s court snickered.

Then Nero leaned forward, and the smile disappeared. His eyes were cold and black. “Do I understand you correctly, Paul of Tarsus? Are you saying that I should repent as if I’ve somehow wronged your God? Is the prisoner accusing his judge?”

Paul didn’t hesitate even for a moment. “Yes, Your Excellency. You, of all men, should indeed repent.”