Learn From It

When I was a kid, I remember my mother being a fan of the books of Taylor Caldwell. I can't speak for her in her particular reasons for loving Ms. Caldwell's bible-character-based books, like Great Lion of God and Dear and Glorious Physician, but I can speak for myself: I read them.

I tackled each of these for the first time when I was probably twelve or thirteen. Having been firmly ensconced in the co-optive, enclasping Roman Catholi-cosm at that age, it was a natural choice. I was reading material well beyond my chronological age, and my mom was ok with me reading these books because Ms. Caldwell had set out to prop up the images of Saints Paul & Luke, respectively.

So I was happy because I got to read grown-up fiction without having to hide the fact. Mom was happy that I was investing my already-considerable brainpower in the Catholic Pantheon. Oh, and it satisfied that adolescent hubris of mine, the one that told me that I had the might of god behind my moralizing, that I had the rich history of an enduring institution to add weight to my judgments.

It was not until much later that I realized that the pressure on never wandering outside the intellectual/mystical ken of the Catholi-cosm was so great. Never dissent. Never truly question—oh, go as far as the “proofs” of Aquinas in your critical thinking, but never ask the truly meaty questions. Not until much later did it occur to me to see if there were some other opinions—based on more than just the Bible and the specific Catholic Tradition we were all spoonfed—of Paul, of Luke and of any of the other lesser gods in the Catholic Canon of Saints, that I might avail myself of.

Keep in mind that this happened fairly late in the game...I was already an adult, well past the age where most kids abandon religion as a reaction to their parents and to the establishment. I was, however, newly free in my own mind to explore dissenting opinions. And in my zeal, I learned that the zeal still had me. That's when the real sobering experience happened—not in finding that most people outside of organized christian (and catholic) religions think that Paulus of Tarsus was a complete asshole, but in discovering that only the object of zealotry had changed in myself.

To that end, I reread the two books I've already mentioned. And I remembered two other Caldwell books that I had read along the way but had forgotten about: The Listener and No One Hears But Him. In fact, it was these newly-remembered books that provided, ironically, the balance and cool distance required of me to move on past my history with the Catholi-cosm. Though both were specifically about the Crucified Savior, it came to me that all the hard work in revelation, in understanding, in forgiveness, in tolerance came from within each of the supplicating characters and the “graven image” forbidden in 2of10 [Commandments] was just a point of external focus and not magical of itself.

Today, right now, at 41 years old, I still think the historical figure of Saint Paul is an asshole. Luke has held up far better, partly because he has avoided history's glaring eye for the most part, but mainly, I would contend, because he embodied the nature of the christian ethic and not the moralizing pedantry of Paul. Luke was a healer and a demonstration of the goodness that the historical Jesus put forth. Paul was a heavy club, wielded in the name of a rather Romanesque version of God as Punisher (Paul was a Roman citizen, did you know that?)

I don't remember any of the Lectionary Selections mentioning Jesus as a militant anything, except for the money-changers in the Church...but that reads more like a bad hair day than an Eternal Damnation thing like Paul would have done. Luke would have stuck around to treat any injuries that results from the tables being flipped over the by Savior of Mankind.

Today, most would say that Luke was just weak. History has continually shown us otherwise.