inspired, but who deviate from the faith we have received. In my view, that authority can best come from the original apostles; it is they who lay the strongest claim to know the direct teachings of the Lord.”
“Do you not include Paul in this group?” I asked. “Has not the Lord revealed himself as well to Paul—directly, as he tells it, while on his way to Damascus?”
“Even though I myself received the faith from Paul, I cannot include him, lest the same arguments levied against heretical teachers be used against him as well. He calls himself ‘Apostle,’ but his apostleship and his vision of the Lord came about in a different manner than those who were directly commissioned by the Lord before he ascended to the Father. ‘Born out of the normal course,’ as Paul himself put it in writing to the believers at Corinth. Paul should not set himself as a stumbling block by claiming primacy over Peter and the others on matters of the Lord’s direct teachings.”
“But isn’t that precisely what he has done? You know of the disagreements he has had with Peter and the others in Jerusalem, and in Antioch. And you know well his frequent claims of authority over the churches throughout Asia and Greece—authority received directly from the Lord, as he puts it.”
“Are we to split into factions, Mark, like the Corinthians that Paul chastised? There has been enough of that! We are followers of Jesus Christ, and no other. If, indeed, what Paul has received from the Lord is not in full accord with what Peter and the other apostles report that Jesus himself has said, then Paul must either convince them to interpret the Lord’s words differently, or else defer to them—at least with respect to those matters which they have witnessed with their own eyes and heard with their own ears.”
Although Timothy was certainly a disciple of Paul, I was not surprised to hear him defend the position that eyewitness accounts of Jesus’ teachings must ultimately triumph over all contrary views. Logical argument was Timothy’s greatest strength, with pragmatism a close second. The courage of his conviction that harmony among the brethren on matters of faith could be achieved by logical persuasion—something that certainly had not always been the case, as Paul’s heated battles with the elders in Jerusalem had proven—was firm enough now to stand up even to a personality as dominant as Paul’s. How I longed to have even a small measure of that conviction!
“And when this generation has passed away, and none of the Twelve are left alive, what then?” I asked. “Are they to appoint successors who will preserve the truths that they have witnessed—to the exclusion of all contrary teachings?”
“How else can it be, Mark? What other guardians of the truth can hold such authority as those who have received the word directly in succession from one who received it from the Lord? There is no text, no written exposition of the Faith to refer to in resolving such disagreements.”
“We do have the parchments,” I suggested. “And copies of letters that Paul has sent to the churches throughout the region.”
“But those letters are literally all over the map, Mark. They were all written to believers who had already been taught the Way, and for that reason they make no serious effort to recapitulate those teachings, as opposed to exhorting believers to hold fast to the teachings previously received. Moreover, each such letter is specific to its own unique context. I was with Paul when he dictated letters to the churches at Thessalonica, Philippi, Corinth, Rome—and each time, he wrote to address whatever pressing issues were at hand in a particular church at a particular time. Do you recall the disruption of worship being caused by those women in Corinth some years ago? Paul wrote to the Corinthians that women should remain silent in such gatherings; yet a few years later he sent Phoebe, a deaconess of the church in Cenchreae just a few miles from Corinth, to preach in Rome!
“My point is that we would be hard-pressed to distill a consistent and complete explication of the faith simply through Paul’s letters, even if there were a dozen more of them. And anyway, as we have said, Paul lacks the eyewitness perspective. The parchments may have that benefit, but they are likewise scattered fragments of our Lord’s teachings.”
“Then it should all be written down as a coherent whole,” I suggested. “While eyewitnesses are still alive, their testimony should all be written, for all to refer to, until the Lord returns. The sayings recorded here in these parchments—they should be woven into an account of his ministry and of his revelations of the Father.”
Timothy nodded his agreement. “You are a good writer, Mark. With all of the reading you do of Greek mythology and plays, one might even call you a scholar! Have you ever thought that perhaps you have been called for just such a purpose, to write such an account?”
“No, Timothy, not I. I was but a young lad in Jerusalem when the Nazarean preached there, and I never heard him speak even once. What little I know of his ministry I have learned from Peter, James and the others. Surely it is Peter who would be best suited for this task.”
“I do not disagree with you. But Peter is no writer; perhaps you could be of aid to him in that regard.”
“If that were truly God’s purpose for me, then why am I going to Rome? Is not Peter in Jerusalem?”
“Patience, my brother! Wherever he is, if it be God’s will that you meet up with him, you shall. Rome will not be your last journey in the service of the Lord. And besides,” Timothy continued with a wink, “Who is to say whether Paul’s request for your presence is not related somehow to your writing?”
Chapter 3
We anchored at Delos as the sun was setting, and Timothy went ashore to assist in bringing on fresh water and provisions. I stayed on board, and by the light of a single lamp I spread the parchments before me on top of Paul’s cloak. It was too dark to read them easily, and I quickly replaced them.
My thoughts turned to Paul. We had had our differences in the past, but I knew that each time the fault was mine. In Pamphylia, I was not ready for the trials that I knew would await us, and I had abandoned Paul there, returning to Jerusalem with my faith shaken. I could not blame him when later, in Antioch, Paul refused to let me accompany him on his next mission, despite the pleadings of my cousin Barnabas. Years later, when we were in Rome together, Paul dispatched me to Colossae, but sent Tychicus ahead of me bearing a letter suggesting that I might or might not arrive.
The truth was that I lacked the unwavering zeal that Paul and the others had for preaching the Way to the Gentiles—and Paul knew it. Yet now he wanted me with him again. But why?
Even now, I questioned my own faith. When I first received the gospel as a youth in Jerusalem years ago, directly from Peter, it was rapturous and transforming—but over the years my conviction had often waxed and waned. Paul’s insistence that all believing Gentiles were the new Israel, the true people of God, flew in the face of my traditions, and to this day regularly shook my confidence. At times I even questioned whether Paul was letting his own ego get the best of him. He saw himself as the new Jeremiah, to whom God had said ‘Before I formed you in the womb I knew you, before you were born I dedicated you, a prophet to the nations I appointed you.’ Paul had written the same of himself, in virtually the same words, to the Galatian churches years ago. Was Paul coloring the gospel as he saw fit in order to cast himself in that role? Did he teach the radical proposition that baptism was the equivalent of circumcision solely to gain favor with his Gentile audience?
If this was truly the good news that we must preach, how could one such as I, prone to bouts of doubt and fear, truly be of service to the Lord? Did I love him less than the others? I marveled at their strength of conviction, and felt inferior in my inability to sustain that same conviction.
Timothy was a ready
