Magyar Egyház, 1968 (47. évfolyam, 1-12. szám)

1968-12-01 / 12. szám

12

MAGYAR EGYHÁZ

Etje Cljrtőtmaő ^>torp

Andrew Harsanyi:

THE GOSPEL ACCORDING TO LUKE

“You don’t have to whisper, you’re sate here” — the host said to his guests. “Make yourselves comfortable, our brethren will soon be coming.” The words of the host were kind, his face smiling: it put the three visitors at ease.

It was difficult for them to feel so. Back home in Jerusalem they had been living in constant fear since the day their beloved friend, Stephen, was dragged before the Temple leaders and after a show trial was stoned to death. The members of the congregation had to be very cautious. As they met in the house of Mary almost every night, even behind heavily locked doors they were afraid — they kept their voices down and when they chanted their Psalms it was a mere whisper. They called themselves the “People of the Way”. The name sounded insignificant but not for those who knew its secret meaning. The “Way” was their Lord and Master, Jesus of Nazareth, shamefully crucified by the Temple leaders — with the aid of the Roman governor, Pilate, — but gloriously risen on the third day. Then, before the Master left them for good, as he took his leave, he gave them a last commandment: to tell the Gospel which he had taught them to all the world, to all people. It was amazing: a few days later those who used to be closest to Jesus, Simon Peter and the other eleven came forward and to a festive crowd on Jerusalem’s marketplace did just what their Master had told them to do: they began to proclaim his Gospel, the love of God to all mankind, and the only way to God: repentance.

And what they hadn’t expected happened: people listened. A great number joined them and as an outward sign asked to be baptized. Everything went well for a While until one of them, Stephen, got into an argument with some synagogue members. Moreover, when Stephen was brought before the Temple Council he was bold —- or foolish — enough te tell them plainly that they were ignorant of the truth and were fighting against the Holy Spirit of God. When, in front of the Council, Stephen pointed to the sky and shouted, ‘Look, I see the Son of Man standing at God’s right hand’, his fate was sealed. In their eyes he was a blasphemer, worthy of death. It was easy to incite the mob and Stephen was dragged outside the city walls and stoned to death. Since that day the “People of the Way” lived in fear. If anybody was discovered as belonging to them, his job and even -his life were in jeopardy.

This was going on now for several years and many of them fled to the North, to Antioch or even farther. For those who stayed in Jerusalem it was a miracle that they survived. But they couldn’t give up the “Way”, they couldn’t abandon the heavenly vision of Stephen, they couldn’t forget the command of their Master. They often wondered why they were holding fast to it — there was no explanation, really. There was just this other spirit inside them which didn’t let them go — as they gathered nightly at Mary’s house, stirring at every noise outside, they felt so sure that neither persecution, nor sword, nor hunger, not even death could separate them anymore from the love of their Master.

All this passed through the minds of the three visitors as they sat comfortably in the spacious inner hall of their host. It was the house of Luke, the physician, and it was in Antioch, Syria, beyond the reach of the Temple Council.

Luke was also one of the “People of the Way”. Refugees from Jerusalem made the Gospel of Jesus known to him just a few years back. Soon the Syrian doctor’s elegant house became the chief meeting place.

“We hope we don’t impose upon you,” one of the visitors said to Luke. “We brought important word to Brother Barnabas from James, the head of our Jerusalem group and we were told that we would find him here. I don’t know if you know Mary, she is the mother of John Mark, the cousin of Barnabas.”

“Well, you got here just at the right hour. We are expecting Barnabas any time now. He went to Tarsus to get Paul down here to teach our people. There are so many who wish to join...” Luke was interrupted by the youngest visitor:

“Paul... O, my God. We shall see Paul again?”

“Do you know him?” Luke asked.

“Yes, and no. We don’t like to remember...” and the man shuddered as if from a terrible memory.

“Why, what was it? Tell me,” Luke urged him. “Paul is a wonderful man of God.”

“When I saw him he was an abominable man of the Devil,” was the visitor’s answer. “You see, we are not from Jerusalem. Our hometown is a few hours journey down South. It’s called Bethlehem where our Blessed Master was born, you know. One day we were up in the City and we were among the unfortunate witnesses to how Stephen was killed. And while the Council’s henchmen were busy throwing stones at the poor innocent and defenseless man, a young fellow watched their upper garments so their arms would be free to throw the stones. We were just standing there, frightened; we did nothing, you understand, nothing to help poor Stephen. Just watched and listened how this young man shouted encouraging words to the killers. You know who this young man was? His name was Saul...”

“Oh, I see,” Luke’s voice was trembling with emotion.

“And then,” the visitor continued, “we heard some years later that a man who called himself Paul and an Apostle of Christ came from Antioch to Jerusalem. To the brethren. We just couldn’t believe our ears when we learned that this was the same man Saul.”

“Miracle is the way of our Lord,” said Luke. “Didn’t he start his work by calling everybody to repentance?” “Yes, of course. Yet, first to assist killing one of the best of the disciples and then just to stop like that and step into his place?” The visitor’s voice was agitated.

“Do not judge,” said Luke. “Didn’t you know our Master said that, too? And didn’t he also say that there will be joy in heaven over one sinner who repents? Now he said these words so we should follow them. Go forth and do likewise — this is what he said.”

“Say, you know your Gospel pretty well” — it was the third visitor who now spoke. He was quite an old man. “You must forgive my younger friends, it is hard to wipe out a horrible experience like that from your memory.” Luke picked up the man’s clue. He didn’t speak about Paul anymore. He said: “That I know my Gospel-words, you say. Well, we all know many words from Jesus. This is what we are doing when we are together: we repeat the Master’s saying and the stories about him — the parables, how he was teaching from the hill and from the boat, how he healed so many people — in body and in soul. Like that miserable extortioner Zacchaeus, remember?” They sat silently for a few moments as if they would go through some stories they knew. It was Luke who broke the silence. His words were somewhat uncertain as he began: “You know, as a matter of fact, I am collecting the words of our Master and the stories about him. I’ve already made a lot of notes. Our brethren are making fun of me because I always have my wax-tablet and my stylus ready to jot down every new sentence or story I hear. I have a cabinet full of them.” His voice became quite excited: “And you know, it’s so thrilling to compare the different versions. How one quotes Jesus’ great sermon on the mount and how another. And the stories — as different people tell them they are almost the same,