Chapter 27

And perhaps it was just as well that the Jerusalem experiment in communal living had come to a prompt and decisive termination.

Had it shown any promise of recovery by careful nursing, the disciples might have felt obliged to stay with it for better or worse; but its collapse had been so complete, so far beyond the reach of repair, that the disciples immediately set forth on other missions: Philip to Antioch, Andrew to Damascus, Thaddeus to the fisher-folk on the Sea of Galilee, Matthew to Capernaum and Bethsaida, John and James to Askelon, Gaza, and Idumea, Thomas to the Parthians in India, the aged Nathaniel Bartholomew to Jericho—and then on home to die.

Learning that a little company of Christians were meeting secretly in Joppa, Peter decided to visit them. The shabby old city had lately come awake, shaken out of its torpor by the Empire’s activities on the waterfront. Reconstruction of the wharves and reconditioning of the harbour had tripled the population. The newcomers were slaves for the most part, many of them quite unused to pick-and-shovel labour, paying with their sweat and calluses for futile efforts to defend themselves and their communities against the engulfing tyranny of Rome. Obviously the Christian movement in Joppa was a good thing to keep away from, especially for a distinguished-looking man whose unusual height and bulk made it difficult for him to remain inconspicuous.

Peter was deeply touched by the welcome he received at the lame and blistered hands of these despairing men. He had gone to Joppa with no acquaintances to vouch for him. It was a wonder to him—once he had learned in what danger they stood—that the wary slaves should have accepted his overtures of friendship without distrust, for the Romans were taking no chances of insurrection on the part of these intelligent men, enslaved for political reasons; nor were the slaves risking exposure by confiding in strangers. But the Big Fisherman instantly disarmed suspicion.

Taking lodgings in the humble home of a tanner who lived near the docks, Peter quickly won his taciturn host’s confidence and discovered, to his delight, that the quiet old man was a believer in the promised Kingdom of justice and peace. It soon became evident that the house of Simon the Tanner was a secret meeting-place of lonely men. In the night they would arrive in small groups of twos and threes and sit together in dim candle-light, listening to the Tanner’s reassurances that all would be well—sometime—somewhere.

Now that Peter had come, they could learn about the divine Nazarene from one who had walked daily by his side. The lean and haggard men hungrily heard the intimate details of the Master’s ministry: his comforting words, his marvellous deeds, his courageous death, his return to life; and—most heartening of all—the amazing disclosures of his abiding presence and power on the Day of Pentecost.

Very few of the wistful listeners understood Aramaic, but all of them knew Greek, and although Peter’s Greek was anything but fluent, it served its purpose. Indeed, the thoughtful old Tanner told him that his groping for the right words, which his sympathetic—and sometimes amused—audience supplied, had but deepened their interest in what he was saying.