our God-given intellects, and knowledge frees us.”
“Vain philosophy and deceit!” John yelled. “Paul calls these ‘profane and idle babblings and contradictions of what is falsely called knowledge—by professing it some have strayed concerning the faith.’”
It appeared to John that Cerinthus had lost patience with him. He addressed the crowd: “Men of Ephesus, whom would you rather hear, this deluded old man who claims to have been a friend of Jesus, or one who has been mentored by angels into a new revelation?”
“You! You!” the crowd cried, and John was stunned. “We know the old man and his old ideas! Tell more of the new!”
John tried to regain a hearing, but the crowd shouted him down. Cerinthus continued to harangue, and Ignatius said, “Polycarp, this is no good. Let us go.”
“No!” John said. “Stay and fight! When he is gone, the crowd will remain.”
“No,” Ignatius said. “The crowd has spoken. Desist in trying to cast your pearls before swine.”
FIVE
T he men made their way out onto Curetes Street and headed northwest past the Latrines toward Marble Road. Polycarp slowed as they neared the Mazaeus and Mithridates Gates into the Agora on their left. “We must enter and find some refreshment,” he said.
“At least some shade,” Ignatius said, and John was grateful for their concern.
A few minutes later they sat under a canopy, sipping wine, and John was soon rejuvenated. “To the theater,” he said, eager to pray.
The three exited the gates again and turned left to head north. Soon they stood under the covered portico of the massive twenty-five-thousand-seat theater. John put a hand on each man’s shoulder, closed his eyes, and lifted his face toward heaven. “Lord,” he said, “I am nearly overcome with the privilege of standing here where your servant Paul bravely faced angry accusers, lo, many years past. How I have thrilled to the accounts of his traveling companions being seized and dragged here before thousands, and Demetrius the silversmith raging against Paul and his teaching that men are to worship Christ, not idols made with hands. Oh, I pray You would grant us such courage in the face of opposition and heresy….”
John was startled by a commotion when Cerinthus and his party hurried past.
“We must not let one more word of his heresy go unchecked,” John said. And as they followed Cerinthus and his people from a distance, excited crowds passed them. People were shouting. “Hurry! Cerinthus! Outside the stadium!”
The stadium farther north covered more ground than the theater but held only about half as many spectators. John assumed this impromptu event outside the place would probably draw no more than a hundred, but he was mistaken. As he and Polycarp and Ignatius rushed along as fast as old bones would carry him, more and more people passed them.
John turned to the bishop. “Ignatius, send Polycarp ahead to reserve us places near where Cerinthus will speak. Otherwise we will be futile in our efforts to challenge him again.”
Polycarp gathered his hem and sprinted on. “Look for me near the front!” he called over his shoulder. By the time John and Ignatius arrived, John was stunned to see people crowding the street, pushing close to surround Cerinthus and his huddled disciples. “There must be more than two hundred men and women here, Ignatius. How did they know of this?”
“Cerinthus is eloquent and has become popular, preaching on street corners. And he has many volunteers who spread the word of where he will be. I tell you, John, his intellectual approach to pleasing God by doing good works resonates with the people.”
The two picked their way through the murmuring assemblage to find the waving Polycarp about six deep from the head of the crowd. John could see Cerinthus’s head above those of the disciples who surrounded him, all eager young men appearing proud to be there and desperate to please him.
For his part, Cerinthus
“Vain philosophy and deceit!” John yelled. “Paul calls these ‘profane and idle babblings and contradictions of what is falsely called knowledge—by professing it some have strayed concerning the faith.’”
It appeared to John that Cerinthus had lost patience with him. He addressed the crowd: “Men of Ephesus, whom would you rather hear, this deluded old man who claims to have been a friend of Jesus, or one who has been mentored by angels into a new revelation?”
“You! You!” the crowd cried, and John was stunned. “We know the old man and his old ideas! Tell more of the new!”
John tried to regain a hearing, but the crowd shouted him down. Cerinthus continued to harangue, and Ignatius said, “Polycarp, this is no good. Let us go.”
“No!” John said. “Stay and fight! When he is gone, the crowd will remain.”
“No,” Ignatius said. “The crowd has spoken. Desist in trying to cast your pearls before swine.”
FIVE
T he men made their way out onto Curetes Street and headed northwest past the Latrines toward Marble Road. Polycarp slowed as they neared the Mazaeus and Mithridates Gates into the Agora on their left. “We must enter and find some refreshment,” he said.
“At least some shade,” Ignatius said, and John was grateful for their concern.
A few minutes later they sat under a canopy, sipping wine, and John was soon rejuvenated. “To the theater,” he said, eager to pray.
The three exited the gates again and turned left to head north. Soon they stood under the covered portico of the massive twenty-five-thousand-seat theater. John put a hand on each man’s shoulder, closed his eyes, and lifted his face toward heaven. “Lord,” he said, “I am nearly overcome with the privilege of standing here where your servant Paul bravely faced angry accusers, lo, many years past. How I have thrilled to the accounts of his traveling companions being seized and dragged here before thousands, and Demetrius the silversmith raging against Paul and his teaching that men are to worship Christ, not idols made with hands. Oh, I pray You would grant us such courage in the face of opposition and heresy….”
John was startled by a commotion when Cerinthus and his party hurried past.
“We must not let one more word of his heresy go unchecked,” John said. And as they followed Cerinthus and his people from a distance, excited crowds passed them. People were shouting. “Hurry! Cerinthus! Outside the stadium!”
The stadium farther north covered more ground than the theater but held only about half as many spectators. John assumed this impromptu event outside the place would probably draw no more than a hundred, but he was mistaken. As he and Polycarp and Ignatius rushed along as fast as old bones would carry him, more and more people passed them.
John turned to the bishop. “Ignatius, send Polycarp ahead to reserve us places near where Cerinthus will speak. Otherwise we will be futile in our efforts to challenge him again.”
Polycarp gathered his hem and sprinted on. “Look for me near the front!” he called over his shoulder. By the time John and Ignatius arrived, John was stunned to see people crowding the street, pushing close to surround Cerinthus and his huddled disciples. “There must be more than two hundred men and women here, Ignatius. How did they know of this?”
“Cerinthus is eloquent and has become popular, preaching on street corners. And he has many volunteers who spread the word of where he will be. I tell you, John, his intellectual approach to pleasing God by doing good works resonates with the people.”
The two picked their way through the murmuring assemblage to find the waving Polycarp about six deep from the head of the crowd. John could see Cerinthus’s head above those of the disciples who surrounded him, all eager young men appearing proud to be there and desperate to please him.
For his part, Cerinthus
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