Man in White Read online

  He closed his eyes, and the afterimage of the Man in White formed again behind his eyelids.

  “Saul,” it said.

  “Yes, Lord.”

  “Drink, and learn this truth.”

  He lay down with his face in the pool and drank deeply.

  “Whosoever drinks of this water shall thirst again. But whosoever drinks of the water that I shall give him shall never thirst. The water that I shall give him shall be a well springing into everlasting life.”

  “Yes, Lord,” said Saul.

  “Do you understand me?” asked the Voice kindly.

  “Yes, Lord,” he replied. “Whosoever believes in you, from within him shall flow rivers of the living water. You speak of the Holy Spirit.”

  “If any man thirsts, let him come to me and drink,” said the Voice. “You shall pour out my living water to the whole world. Let him who is thirsty come. Whoever will, let him take of the water of life freely.” The image disappeared, and the Voice was gone.

  Saul bathed himself thoroughly, filling his skin with water, and stood up. He walked upon the rocks on the riverbank. He looked down upon the refreshing pool going in circles and remembered the dream he had had what seemed like a long, long time ago—the voices in the water that called out to him, the Jews and the countless numbers of the Gentile nations calling out his name in various languages.

  He spread out his arms and smiled broadly. He raised his face to the sun and laughed. “The earth receives blessings from God,” he said. “Make me worthy to be a vessel to pour out your living water.”

  Saul started out eastward. Everywhere the whirling, drifting sand covered all. Then on a rise ahead he saw a caravan and knew he was about to reach the great north-south trade route that traversed the western edge of the Arabian desert. Upon reaching it, he turned south.

  This road was not a straight road of hard-surface stones like the ones the Romans built, but a wide path beaten by centuries of camels’ and donkeys’ feet, by noble and ignoble chariot wheels, and by the bare feet of slaves carrying royal cars whose occupants kept their costly curtains closed to keep out the fleas, the heat, and the smell of the animals. The bare feet of pilgrims traveled the road, as did the heavy wheeled carts and wagons laden with goods to be bartered in Philadelphia or Macherus, east of the mountains, east of the Dead Sea, or taken farther, across the vicious broiling Sinai to Memphis and Alexandria.

  The road meandered as nearly as possible to the lay of the land, going around hostile terrain yet making as straight as possible the southern route from the Orient to its destinations. In addition to robbers who sometimes traveled in bands of a dozen or more, the outcroppings of rocks and canyons were feared as well because of lions. The farther south Saul traveled, the wilder and rougher the terrain became. He saw each day hundreds of fellow travelers and always stayed close to a well-protected caravan. At night he ate little and seldom slept. On the third night on the road, a terrible wind rose again, and Saul, lying in a ditch for protection, watched as litters overturned and animals broke their halters and disappeared in the desert.

  An oriental man stood by his overturned litter and called for his slaves to aid him. His wife broke through the curtains under which she had fallen and clung to her husband’s feet. As the slaves uprighted the litter, Saul leaped to his feet and ran to their aid. He drew from his belt the needles and hooks of his craft. The man huddled on the ground, protecting his wife from the fierce wind and dust.

  In the darkness Saul heard the bleating of a goat, and reaching out into the darkness, he took the goat by the horns and twisted its neck until it fell upon the ground. From its shoulders and sides he pulled out strands of long black hair. Letting the animal go in the darkness, threading the hair in the needle, and reaching for the torn cloth of the royal litter, he urged the man to take his wife back inside. Then he worked as a blind man quietly mending the tear in the cloth until it was sewn together again. He felt along the sides of the litter and, upon finding another torn area, again threaded the goat hair and sewed and mended until the litter was whole again.

  Finally the coughing and weeping of the woman inside ceased, and with his nostrils and eyes burning form the fury of the wind and sand, Saul lay upon the ground on the downwind side of the litter and slept.

  Morning broke calm and clear, and Saul awoke to the sounds of stubborn animals being brought back to the caravan from where they had been lost and wandering aimlessly the night before.

  He sat up, and to his surprise, well within sight was the lush green valley of the Jordan River and the city of Jericho beyond. The turmoil and madness of the night before was matched only by the loneliness and confusion of the morning. Inside the litter beside him and still asleep lay the man and his wife. Their slaves observed him curiously, but he paid them no attention.

  The agony of this journey and the trauma of the weeks preceding it had left him weak, and as he looked across the short expanse of desert to the emerald-watered Jericho, he tried to pray. But the flesh cried out; the humanness in him cried out, “Jemimah! The beautiful woman Jemimah of Jericho.” He could now be enjoying a comfortable home, food, rest . . . He confessed aloud, “I am lonely, Lord.”

  He felt bitter. Did not the coming of the Messiah mean that peace and joy were to be his? The conversion on the Damascus road already seemed a long time ago.

  A very earthbound east wind had blown mercilessly until dawn, and now in the clarity and calm of the day, he could not turn his eyes from the west and the refuge he could find in Jericho.

  A long black finger tapping him on the shoulder brought him out of his reveries. He looked up into the face of a dark-skinned giant. The man spoke to him and motioned toward the litter that still held the reclining figures of the king, if he was a king, from the East and his queen, or wife.

  Saul arose to his feet, barely coming up to the waist of the servant who had brought his attention to bear upon the partially untied entrance flap to the litter.

  Inside looking at him was the “king,” reclining on his back, his head resting upon a cloth-covered board. Beside him, her face veiled in exquisite lace, lay the woman. Only her eyes moved in Saul’s direction.

  The servant prodded Saul closer to the opening in the curtain, saying, “My master will speak with you.”

  Saul unhesitatingly leaned toward the face of the man, keeping his eyes from the eyes of the woman.

  The servant spoke in broken Aramaic, with a dialect strange even to Saul. “From beyond the two rivers, the Tigris and the Euphrates, we come. The master will now speak with you.”

  “Come closer,” said the royal man. “Let me see your face.”

  Saul bent over and allowed himself to be studied.

  “You are a Jew,” said the king, a statement rather than a question.

  “Yes,” said Saul. He paused. The king opened the flap more, and Saul saw that the king and his wife, lying on their backs, had their hands resting upon another cloth-covered board. Then he saw a strange thing he had only heard of. The fingernails of the pair were longer than the fingers themselves. The man’s fingernails were twice as long as his fingers, and they were curled and polished.

  A sign of beauty? A sign of patience and endurance? Surely with such long, perfectly twisted, and unscratched fingernails, the royal couple never used their fingers for any labor or task that might in any way affect the growth and beauty of their fingernails. Was it a religious custom? Saul wondered. Or was it a symbol of their position, to be perpetually served in every way by their liege of servants? Or was it a thing only of vanity?

  Their clothing was beautiful. The king wore a turban with many precious stones mounted in it. His mustache, like his fingernails, was long and twisted. He wore a red silk robe with a golden sash and golden sandals. His wife was very tiny but very beautiful. Her hair was black, as were her eyes. Her tiny sandals were red, trimmed in gold. Precious stones hung from her ears and around her neck. Inside the litter Saul smelled the musky, sweet odor of frankinc
ense.

  The world outside of Israel already mystified Saul, and his journey had just begun. How much more mystifying would he be to others, when he began proclaiming Jesus of Nazareth, the Messiah of God?

  The king spoke, and as he did, he pointed toward the place in the litter where Saul had repaired it the night before.

  “You have done such a marvelous job in repairing my litter that the stitches appear to be more of a decoration in the cloth than a repair.”

  “Thank you,” said Saul humbly. He did not know what title to use in addressing the man. “Master” he would not use, and “King” he was not sure of.

  The servant saw Saul’s confusion and quickly informed him, “You stand in the presence of Batu-Han, king of the province Delbad. His one million subjects are loyal. You will kneel to him and offer your unworthy service. You will not look into the eyes of the wife of Batu-Han, king of Delbad, upon pain of death.”

  Saul stood up full length and looked up into the face of the king’s servant. “I kneel before no man,” said Saul. “I kneel only to the Most High, Lord of Israel. I have rendered a service to your king as I saw the need last night. However, he is not my king.”

  Saul next found himself sprawled upon the ground. The servant had slapped him with a stunning blow across the side of the head, and at the same time kneed him in the groin. At first Saul was stunned from the agony; then the pain returned. His breath was gone, and as he lay curled on the ground, trying to breathe again and overcome with pain, he heard the king shouting commands to the servant who had struck Saul. The servant bowed his head, turned, and stepped back.

  Finally the pain subsided and Saul sat up, his head in his hands, rubbing away the numbness from the stunning blow he had received. Batu-Han, king of Delbad, was quietly observing him with a twinkle of a smile in his black eyes.

  “What is your name?” Batu-Han asked Saul in atrocious Aramaic.

  “I am Saul of Tarsus. A Jew of the tribe of Benjamin,” Saul replied.

  “From Jerusalem?” asked Batu-Han.

  “Yes,” said Saul.

  “Where are you going?” asked the king.

  “On a journey to prepare myself to serve the Most High through his Son, the promised Messiah,” said Saul.

  “Messiah?” asked Batu-Han.

  “Yes,” said Saul, “Jesus, the Deliverer.”

  Batu-Han smiled at Saul’s testimony. He nodded as if he had heard this before. “Has this Messiah come?” asked Batu-Han.

  “Yes,” said Saul, “he has come.”

  “Are you delivered from your enemies?” asked Batu-Han.

  “No,” said Saul.

  “Who are your enemies?” asked Batu-Han.

  Saul found the questioning complicated and sought to simplify the matter. “I have no enemies,” said Saul.

  Batu-Han cocked his head at Saul, then shook it in confusion. “Then who are your friends?” he asked.

  “Those who do the will of God,” Saul said, pausing, “but more than that, my friends are the beloved followers of the Son of God and Anointed One of Israel.”

  Batu-Han paused and gave Saul a curious look. Then finally he said, “I have heard of your people and more than a little of your traditions and religion. God is one, is he not? Do you not proclaim this daily in your praise of him? Are you saying that your god has a son?” asked Batu-Han. “If he also is a god, then is not your god two?”

  “God is one,” said Saul, “yet he is now three—the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Still, he is one. You can come to know the omnipotence of him through his Son by the Holy Spirit.”

  Batu-Han laughed. “I have been to all the great cities of the world, and in all that world ruled by Rome your people are in the cities. You are many sects and synagogues.”

  “I know,” said Saul.

  Batu-Han smiled warmly, then said, “Saul of Tarsus, you are wrong in that you say you have no enemies. The whole world hates you.”

  Saul’s mouth fell open. This remark left him speechless.

  “In all the great and small cities of the world, your people are severely persecuted. They live in crowded districts of the worst sort. They are forced to live all together for many reasons. Your people are a clannish people who generally oppose civil authority and will tolerate no religion except their own.”

  “How do you know so much about the dispersed of Israel?” asked Saul.

  “I have been everywhere in the world where men and women love gold, silk, and exotic spices. All men and women have this vanity in common, and my camels and carts supply these worldwide needs. In turn, I am a man of great wealth and influence.”

  Saul did not appear impressed.

  Batu-Han had more to say. “You will have enemies everywhere you go. When you least expect rejection, watch for the stones to fly.”

  “I have a special calling,” said Saul.

  “Yes?” asked Batu-Han.

  “The Son of God, in great glorification, descended from the right hand of God in heaven and appeared to me.”

  Batu-Han then looked at Saul as if he were seeing him for the first time. Then Saul thought it best to completely explain the Damascus road experience, answering unbelieving questions and explaining his mission to the Gentiles. Then he filled him in on what had preceded it.

  Batu-Han understood his staunch Jewishness before the conversion. He had seen many Zealots. But the Damascus road experience and the appearance of a glorified Son of God singling Saul out for such a mission were incomprehensible.

  His first words to Saul after Saul spoke were,“You’re going the wrong way,” and he laughed at Saul. “Your Gentile world lies at Antioch, Tarsus, Antioch of Pisidia, Ephesus, Troas, Thessalonica, Athens, Corinth, Rome . . .”

  “I am going first to Sinai,” said Saul, “to the rock from which I was hewn, so to speak. Then when he bids me, I shall go to those cities.”

  Saul bowed his head, and Batu-Han spoke warmly and personally. “You cannot do such a thing, Saul. All cities and all people have gods. You will bring yet another god into the lives of those who already have too many gods.”

  “There is only one God, the God of the Covenant. And through the Covenant with his people in Israel, his chosen people, a Savior, the Son of God, was sacrificed for all who will believe,” said Saul.

  Batu-Han relaxed and closed his eyes, then asked quietly, “Is your god a respecter of persons? Is one race lesser or greater in his eyes?”

  “You do not understand,” said Saul. “He is no respecter of persons. He doesn’t esteem one race or one man above another. That is why I have been called as an apostle to the Gentiles. Under the new covenant, or the fulfilled covenant through Jesus the Savior, God does not want any man to suffer, but offers salvation to all through belief in him.”

  The caravan moved slowly but steadily down the eastern side of Lake Asphaltitis. Hundreds of noisy animals could be seen, and people of many races and religions with many reasons for making the journey. Great carts of food and supplies followed the litter of Batu-Han. Tall bronzed slaves walked alongside each cart, prodding the beasts of burden. Day after day Saul walked with the caravan, earning his food and protection by mending tents, coverings, and clothing at every stop.

  The road became a rocky gully as the entourage slowly climbed the plateau that was crowned in the distance by the fortress Macherus. For a day, then two days, then three, the tower steadily moved closer. The country was bleak and arid on the rises, and the heat was stifling. Down and across the valleys was like another world. The temperature dropped, and there was much vegetation.

  Saul lay down under the stars at night to the sounds of night birds and the cries of wild animals. Jackals and dogs were always in the distance, warning of dangers in the strange darkness.

  And stranger and stranger still the country did become. The canyons were deeper and the rocky mountains sharper and steeper. More vegetation grew out of the rocks, tangling vines, thornbushes. Crossing the eastern slopes of Machaerus, Saul b
egan to see the beautiful and rare rue tree. The towering giants with the smooth, cool trunks were found only here, and because of its beauty, hardness, and rarity, the rue wood was much used in the fine chambers of the Temple.

  The servants of Batu-Han spread their evening meal on an exquisite carpet, and a dozen or more men sat around this ready-made table. Oil fires heated the water, and soon the king and his lady were drinking a warm beverage. They moved into the tent, which was quickly set up by slaves, and reclined under the silk canopy, relaxing in the cool western breezes that came toward sundown from the direction of the great sea.

  The many courses of the evening meal were served to Batu-Han and his queen by a seemingly endless line of servants. Saul did not take a place at the meal, but in deep thought he walked a few paces off from the entourage and gazed thoughtfully up at the fortress Machaerus.

  The citadel was built by Herod the Great, his luxurious quarters being fifty cubits above the rock it stood on. A prison was carved out in this rock, and it was in this dungeon that John the Baptist was chained and finally beheaded by Herod, tetrarch of Galilee.

  Before the death of Herod the Great, the tower had been raised another forty cubits. Fearing attacks by Egypt or Rome, the king built himself what he considered an impregnable refuge, notwithstanding the fact that to Rome there was no such thing as an unscalable wall. Like the Babylonians before him, the Romans, with their earthen or wooden ramps and great machines of war, mounted or destroyed every wall built to keep them out.

  Gold reflected on the roof of the tower from the sun going down in the west. It shone like a jewel in the sky. A man’s monument to himself, thought Saul, will fall as surely as the Tower of Babel. And what cruelties the Baptist suffered in that dungeon.

  Saul’s thoughts were interrupted by the braying of a donkey. Two men had the animal in harness and were trying to prod it to move. Behind the donkey was a great mound of dirt, and upon a closer look, Saul saw that it had come from an attempt to dig up a plant. Enough of the roots were cleared so that a rope could be looped around it and attached to the donkey’s harness. The men continued to shout at the beast of burden and to strike him, but he refused to move.