MANY years of intensive study went into this novel about one of the most passionate, intelligent, urban and dedicated Apostles of early Christianity, Saul of Tarshish, ‑or, as the Romans called him, Paul of Tarsus, the intellectual Pharisee and lawyer and theologian, and, finally, the Apostle to the Gentiles.
Saul has had more influence on the Western world and Christianity than most of us know, for Judeo‑Christianity, which he sedulously spread throughout the world, is the bedrock of modern jurisprudence, morals and philosophy in the West, and which, through their spiritual and mental power and industry and justice, have literally over the past two thousand years truly created a new society, and advanced the cause of freedom.
As we all know, it was Moses who cried, “Proclaim liberty throughout the land, unto the inhabitants thereof” It was the first time in human history that such a proclamation was uttered, and Saul of Tarshish proclaimed it anew and vehemently. Liberty, above all, has been the most profound ideal of Judeo‑Christianity, liberty of mind and soul and body, a new concept among men. It is no wonder, then, that the foes of freedom first attack religion, which liberated mankind.
It may cheer many‑and depress others‑to realize that man never really changes, and the exact problems of Saul’s world are the same that confront us today. Cheer, in that man has an indomitable way of surviving his governments and his tyrants and surmounting them, and depressing that he never learns from his own experiences. As Aristotle said, long before Christ, a people who do not learn from history are doomed to repeat it. It is obvious that we are repeati it even today.
Solomon said, “There is nothing new under the sun.”
The Roman empire was declining in the days of Saul of Tarshish as the American Republic is declining today —and for the very same reasons: Permissiveness in society, immorality, the Welfare State, endless wars, confiscatory taxation, the brutal destruction of the middle class, cynical disregard of the established human virtues and principles and ethics, the pursuit of materialistic wealth, the abandonment of religion, venal politicians who cater to the masses for votes, inflation, deterioration of the monetary system, bribes, criminality, riots, incendiarisms, street demonstrations, the release of criminals on the public in order to create chaos and terror, leading to a dictatorship “in the name of emergency,” the loss of masculine sturdiness and the feminization of the people, scandals in public office, plundering of the treasury, debt, the attitude that “anything goes,” the toleration of injustice and exploitation, bureaucracies and bureaucrats issuing evil “regulations” almost every week, the centralization of government, the public contempt for good and honorable men, and, above all, the philosophy that “God is dead,” and that man is supreme. All this Saul of Tarshish confronted in his own world where the word “modern” was deeply cherished. There is a common fallacy that the early Church was one, loving and fervent and devoted and without contention or controversy, united and dedicated. On the contrary! Christ had not been resurrected two years before dissension and protest and dissent wracked the young Church almost to oblivion. As Saul said, “There is not an obscure little bishop or deacon in some dusty little town who does not have his own interpretation.” These small men also had a multitude of followers who heartily disagreed with‑and fought other Christians, and the bitterness was intense. for many years that bitterness was powerful between St. Peter and St. Paul, and almost destroyed the Church. How they were reconciled is an amusing story in itself— but they never really loved each other! In short, they were all too human and we can all understand them and as humanity finds itself lovable we can find these two ardent and determined contestants lovable too. There is another fallacy, too, that all Christians were ‘holy martyrs” in a naughty world, and were as pure and long‑suffering as lambs. On the contrary, again! They were often insufferable and intolerant of the world about them, and deliberately provoked “the heathen,” and made themselves generally obnoxious. They were not persecuted, as it has been too long assumed, “for their faith,” for the Roman world was cynical and totally tolerant of all religions and devoted to none. But the early Christians brought themselves dangerously to the attention of the ruling authorities in Rome and in Rome‑dominated Israel by their loud and public objections to practically everything, including the “heathen” temples. They were also guilty of invading those temples during religious ceremonies and shouting, “Woe!” and overturning statues and taking over pulpits and denouncing ruling authorities and the Establishment‑and where have we heard that since? On the other hand, the Faith was advanced not by these militants who thought Our Lord was about to return the next hour or the next day and set them up in glory and as absolute rulers over the world, but by quiet and devoted and intelligent and peaceful men working often in solitude and in prayer. The militant Christians‑who almost destroyed the infant Church with their dissents and protests and belligerence‑had already forgotten that Our Lord had said, “I am no divider of men. My Kingdom is not of this world,” and “Render unto Caesar the things which are Caesar’s and to God the things which are God’s.” Alas, like so many millions of us living today, they believed that the establishment of the Kingdom of God meant material affluence‑for themselves, and power. It is curious that the militant are rarely spiritual, and are concerned only selfishly with advantages in the world, and the “punishment” of “enemies.” There is one cheerful thought that emerges: The Church survived its external enemies‑which were the least important‑and its internal enemies, which were the most disastrous and powerful. So, as the Church is torn by loud “innovators” today, and “dissent,” and “modernism,” to the anxiety and sometimes despair of the truly faithful, so it was in the past, and by its internal rather than external enemies. And as the Church survived then, so it will survive now, finally purged of the “dissenters” who were never truly aware of their Faith and never, in their hearts, fully accepted it. (When I speak of the Church, I speak of all Christian churches, of course.) There is also the depressing thought: We never learn from the past.
Judeo‑Christianity is facing its greatest test of history in these days, for in a great and terrible measure it has become secular and preaches “the Social Gospel” rather than the Gospel of Christ. Christ was not concerned with this world, which now so engrosses those who claim to be His followers, and repeatedly said that He would “create a new world.” He, you will notice, not we. He was not preoccupied with “social problems” and injustices. He constantly preached that justice and mercy would flow from a changed heart, and love, not by man’s laws and ordinances.
Man’s nature cannot be changed in any particular‑except by the power of God, and religion. All the “education” in secular institutions and all the secular exhortations will never succeed in civilizing man. As Christ said, “Who, by taking thought, can add one cubit to his stature?” No one. of course.
In this novel the pronoun of Divinity has been capitalized when the speaker speaks of God and Our Lord in faith and acceptance and have kept the pronoun uncapitalized when the speaker or writer is skeptical or unconvinced or unaccepting. Many novels and books about St. Paul have told in marvelous detail what he did and accomplished in his life and missionary journeys. I am concerned with what he was, a man like ourselves with our own despairs, doubts, anxieties and angers and intolerances, and “lusts of the flesh.” Many books have been concerned only with the Apostle. I am concerned with the man, the human being as well as the dauntless saint. I am also interested in what influenced him in his childhood and early life as a Roman citizen and Roman lawyer, as well as a Pharisee Jew of great learning and enormous intellect, and abiding faith. That is why I halted at his last leaving of his beloved country, Israel. We all know his journeys after that and his martyrdom in Rome, but the last sight of his dear country ends, I hope, the novel on a poignant note.
Death is not more moving to a man than the final vision of his native land, which he is leaving forever, and his own people.
If I can convince and influence, by this book, only ten people who will follow the advice of Our Lord to “study the; Scriptures,” both the Old and the New Testaments, I will feel I have succeeded.
Therefore, this book shall be dedicated “Urbi et Orbi.”
Notes and excerts by Taylor Caldwell
