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Commentary Index | Return to PrayerRequest.com | DownloadGreater Men and Women of the Bible by James Hastings: 659. The Roman Official
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The Roman Official
After being five days at Cæsarea, St. Paul was brought before Felix.
Now we must remember that the attitude of the Roman law towards the infant Church was by no means hostile. Persecutions sprang up at an early date, and before the close of the first century the Empire and the Church were at deadly war. But the first generation of Christians were more often protected than oppressed by the State. It was much more for protection than for punishment that St. Paul was sent by Lysias to Cæsarea. It is quite a mistake to suppose that magistrates like Pilate and Felix were types of Roman officials. On the contrary, they were strongly condemned by the authorities as soon as their misdeeds came to light, and it is satisfactory to know that both these official miscreants met with the disgrace they deserved. Felix was the more inexcusable, as he seems to have known about the Christian religion, and to have been quite aware that this was a matter altogether beyond his jurisdiction. His obvious duty was to release St. Paul at once.
It isn't the thing you do, dear,
It's the thing you leave undone,
Which gives you a bit of a heart-ache
At the setting of the sun.
The tender word forgotten,
The letter you did not write,
The flower you might have sent, dear,
Are your haunting ghosts to-night.1 [Note: Margaret Elizabeth Sangster.]
2. The case against St. Paul was conducted by Tertullus, who was as unscrupulous as he was eloquent.
It was after the Apostle had answered the charges which Tertullus had preferred against him, by denying the accusations of sedition, and desecration, and by confessing devotion to the cause of Christ, that Felix really failed in the discharge of his duty. St. Paul had made it clear that he was no heretic, by showing that the religious movement to which his life was committed-the faith which was finding its way everywhere, and was stirring the hearts of men with a new life and inspiring them with a new ideal-was the spiritual fulfilling of that Messianic hope which every normal Jew claimed to hold. Unless his judgment was altogether warped, Felix could scarcely avoid seeing that the whole matter on the part of St. Paul's accusers was personal and malicious, and that the proper course for him was that which Gallio had previously adopted, the more so as he had what Gallio did not possess, “a more exact knowledge concerning the way.”
Better a just unbeliever than a believing tyrant.2 [Note: Jami. in A Little Book of Eastern Wisdom, 44.]
3. But the legal side of Felix's association with the Apostle is of so little real importance that, were it not for one arresting phrase, it might be passed over without comment. That phrase reflects the very soul of Felix, and it is therefore significant. It reveals the mind which lies behind the act and gives it being. It is the soul emerging to the surface; it is the defining mark of individuality. The act hinted at by the simple clause which terminates the trial scene helps us to understand Felix. It prepares the way for the more famous saying which is ever associated with his name. “Felix deferred them,” is of the same nature, though not of the same far-reaching importance, as “Felix answered, Go thy way for this time; and when I have a convenient season, I will call thee unto me.”
His plea for delay was conveniently indefinite. When was Lysias coming? His letter said nothing about such an intention, and took for granted that all the materials for a decision would be before Felix. Lysias could tell no more. The excuse was transparent, but it served to stave off a decision, and to-morrow would bring some other excuse. Prompt carrying out of all plain duty is the only safety. The indulgence given to St. Paul, in his light confinement, only showed how clearly Felix knew himself to be doing wrong; but small alleviations do not patch up a great injustice.
“ ‘But how do you know that there is any Christ? You never saw Him?' said poor Augustine St. Clare, the slave-owner, to Uncle Tom, the slave.
‘I feel it in my soul, mas'r-feel Him now! Oh, mas'r, the blessed Lord Jesus loves you!'
‘But how do you know that, Tom?' said St. Clare.
‘I feels it in my soul, mas'r; oh, mas'r, the love of Christ that passeth knowledge.'
‘But, Tom, you know that I have a great deal more knowledge than you; what if I should tell you that I don't believe your Bible? Wouldn't that shake your faith some, Tom?'
‘Not a grain, mas'r!' And St. Clare felt himself borne, on the tide of Tom's faith and feeling, almost to the gate of heaven.
‘I like to hear you, Tom; and some time I'll talk more.' ”1 [Note: F. W, Boreham, Mushrooms on the Moor, 112.]
It is hard to admit that we are wrong. How easy to say, “The woman, the serpent, my temperament, my circumstances!” Few things more surely reveal our self-love and pride than this instinctive, automatic excuse-making. We thoroughly understand the lawyer who asked the question, “And who is my neighbour?” wishing to “justify himself.” There is little hope for our growth in virtue, unless we make up our minds frankly to admit the truth about ourselves, no matter how it hurts.1 [Note: M. D. Babcock, Thoughts for Every-Day Living, 68.]
4. In part Felix was doubtless prompted by a merely sordid and selfish motive. He wished to gain time, and to avoid giving a decision. If he did his duty, and released St. Paul, he would become unpopular with his subjects, who had many ways of making themselves disagreeable. If he condemned the prisoner illegally-and he could not condemn him legally-he ran the risk of detection and disgrace by the Emperor. And no doubt he waited in the hope of a bribe from St. Paul for his release, for the offering and acceptance of bribes from accused persons was only too common when magistrates like Felix were concerned.
Indecision, cowardice, ought to be branded legal crimes. When we have done our best to determine, no matter how near to evenness reasons for and against may be balanced, it is an imperative duty to act, and inaction may be a sin worse than the action which follows the lighter scale.2 [Note: Mark Rutherford, Last Pages from a Journal, 98.]