We were making for the island of Delos, about halfway to the Greek mainland and, according to myth, the birthplace of Apollo and Artemis—and there to spend our first night. If the wind cooperated, we would easily arrive before sunset.
Timothy sat in the stern on top of his trunk, hunched forward with his arms around his knees as if trying to keep warm, although the salty air was already quite comfortable. As always, he seemed at peace. Nothing ever seemed to rush him into action—except for Paul’s letter. Timothy had received it less than a week ago, advising that Tychicus would shortly be arriving at Ephesus and imploring us to come to Rome before the winter, yet here we were on our way without even awaiting Tychicus’ arrival and with summer barely begun. Timothy had picked up on the sense of urgency between the lines of Paul’s letter, and had no wish to risk a voyage later in the year, when wind and weather would be against us.
At length I interrupted his thoughts. Or perhaps his prayers.
“Thinking of Paul?” I inquired.
“Indeed I was,” he replied. “He will be glad to have his cloak back before the winter.”
“More so to have the parchments back.”
“No doubt that is true. Whatever else may be stowed on board, this vessel surely contains no more precious cargo than the parchments. I am confident that God will suffer no calamity to befall this ship, lest they be lost.”
I sat beside him, making myself as comfortable as I could. “Tell me, Timothy; do you think all of the things written in these parchments are true? What I mean is, have all these sayings of our Lord been recorded faithfully?”
“Why do you question it?”
“I don’t, really. But how can we be sure? Memories fade with time. These are, after all, not contemporaneous records. And second-hand, at that.”
“Always the cynic, Mark! Put your doubts aside; do you not recall Paul telling us that Peter vouched for their accuracy when he turned the parchments over to Paul? If you question whether the words attributed to the Lord were indeed spoken by him, what better attestation can there be than that of someone who walked with him, ate with him, conversed with him?”
“None, I suppose.” My answer did not sound convincing even to myself. Timothy picked up on the tone of skepticism in my voice.
“Even in the short time you have been in Ephesus, Mark, have you not been troubled by those claiming special knowledge gleaned directly through supposed revelations from God, leading to modifications of the faith we have been taught? There are no ready means to test the validity of such claimed revelations; wouldn’t you agree?”
“I would. And no means to disprove them, either,” I added. “Just as there is no test to disprove the claim of a vision of the risen Christ, nor that such a vision was as true an encounter as that which Peter and the other disciples have had—and which distinguishes them as true apostles.”
“Then how do we distinguish the truth from the lie? Surely we do best to rely on those whom the Lord chose, those who lived with him, traveled with him, to tell us what is consistent with his teachings—and to question the rest. Until he returns, and while the apostles are alive, theirs is the testimony that must be accepted on such matters. And when the last of them departs to be with the Lord, we who have received the faith directly from them, from the eye-witnesses to his teachings and miracles, must continue as guardians of the truth.”
“You sound as though you are not expecting the Lord’s return to be soon.”
Timothy looked almost wistful. “I did once—when I first received the gospel from Paul. Back then, we all did.” He stood, opened and reached into his trunk, and removed the parchments. “I’m sure you know the passage I am looking for,” he said as he spread the parchments on the deck in front of us. “Here:
‘I tell you truly, there are some standing here who will not taste death until they see that the kingdom of God has come with power.’
Quite naturally, we took this to mean that the Lord would return in glory within a generation. Now, I think, it may be quite some time. Ours is not to know the hour—nor even the decade.”
As Timothy returned the parchments to his trunk, I was suddenly puzzled by the writer’s use of parchment, a medium designed to last for centuries, rather than the less durable papyrus, much cheaper and more readily available—and certainly quite sufficient for the purposes of a scribe who truly believed that all of his potential readers would pass away before his ink did! Had the writer suspected something that his contemporaries did not?
“Suppose, Timothy, that it is many years before the Lord returns, and our grandchildren’s grandchildren are yet awaiting his coming. Will there not be more false claims, by more false teachers claiming to know the true path?”
“Certainly that is a danger. It is up to us to lay the proper path now with clarity, lest future generations be led astray. We must cling to the faith and the traditions we have been given. Paul and I have spoken often of this, and of the need for appointing successors who can be at the core of a structured church.”
“Do you believe that the Lord so intended—I mean, to establish a structured church?”
“Not at all, Mark. His intention, I believe, was simply to reform Judaism and fulfill its promise, not to establish a new religion. Certainly the church in Jerusalem has remained true to Jewish traditions under James’ leadership, and no doubt will continue to do so even now that James has passed on. But I believe the Lord also wanted to make Judaism more universal, as is shown by his willingness to associate with those who would be considered impure or lawbreakers. That set a precedent for our outreach to the Gentiles. Largely thanks to Paul, the gospel has spread to the Gentiles without importing the full panoply of Jewish cultural and religious restrictions. But that is precisely why some structure to the faith is needed.”
“How do you mean?”
“If the gospel is truly to be universal, it must be preserved without alteration—and not just from regression into formalistic Jewish practices. There are other heresies and perversions to be reckoned with. As Paul’s letter points out, there are those who refuse to tolerate sound doctrine, preferring to follow their own desires and to surround themselves with teachers who tell them what they wish to hear. The elders in Ephesus and elsewhere will require a central authority to turn to, to decry the false teachings of those who deem themselves 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