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The roar outside was deafening -- a thunder so loud and so deep that the very ground shook beneath Herculaneum. The eruption had been going on now for almost 10 hours. Fine ash was filtering down on the streets. The mountain whose rich soils had grown the finest grapes in the Roman Empire was threatening to destroy the very town it had enriched. Old Marcus Serix, lying helpless on his wooden bed in an upper room of his house, thought the world might finally be coming to an end. Marcus looked longingly at the large wooden crucifix hanging on the wall, above the cabinet on the other side of his large room. His thoughts returned to the man that he had seen many years before in the nearby town of Puteoli. How he wished that he had taken the time to speak with him then. Instead, he had been so concerned about business that he had gone his way, passing up the opportunity of a lifetime. Marcus was with a friend, the baker Sextus Patulcus Felix, when a Roman ship had docked in Puteoli. The soldiers had a prisoner in tow -- a strange, dark-skinned man from one of the provinces on the other end of Mare Nostrum -- a man, who people said, was a Jew but a Roman citizen. He was being taken to Rome to appeal to the emperor. As the prisoner sat on the dock, waiting for authorities to arrange overland transportation to Rome, people began gathering around him. Marcus though it strange that he was neither heavily guarded nor manacled. He must not be very dangerous, Marcus thought to himself. I wonder what he has done? Marcus drew closer. The man was talking about his God. Those gathered around were listening intently, not because the man was a great speaker like the orators of Rome, but because of his comforting words. He was telling of a God of love that had sent his only Son into the world to be crucified for man's sins. Marcus knew all about crucifixion. That was Rome's punishment for the worst criminals. Surely this Jesus, that the man spoke of, must have been a traitor to the Empire or even a vicious murderer. Then the prisoner told of a promise this Jesus had made. If a person believed in Him, he would have everlasting life. And no one could come to the one God, except through Him. Though the prisoner seemed to be speaking with authority, Marcus thought he was spinning a pretty wild tale. Not even the mighty gods of the empire dared make such claims. Marcus glanced at Sextus. To his surprise, his friend was listening intently to what the prisoner was saying and occasionally nodded his head in agreement. "Do you agree with this?" Marcus finally asked. Sextus turned with tears in his eyes. "Yes," he replied. "These people are called Christians. I know of a group of them in Rome." Marcus raised his eyebrows. "In Rome?!" "Yes. This man is called Paul. He is one of their leaders. I have so longed to see him. One of the Roman soldiers just told me that he caused a riot in Jerusalem and was nearly killed. The authorities in Palestine tried to deal with him there, but he appealed as a Roman citizen for his right to appeal before Caesar." Marcus' eyes narrowed. "Are you one of these Christians?" he asked Sextus. Sextus nodded affirmatively. "Last year, during a trip to Rome. That is where I learned of Paul. He sent a letter to the Roman church and it was read to the brethren. Such words I had never heard before. I was baptized on the spot. With the water, all my sins were washed away by Jesus." "The same man who was crucified." "Yes." "But he was a criminal. Not only that, he is dead." "If preaching a gospel of love and salvation is a crime then He, indeed, was guilty. And, yes, he was executed and laid in a tomb. But he rose again on the third day. This Paul said that he saw the resurrected Christ in a vision. Then he was struck blind. Later his sight was restored. Since then, Paul has dedicated his life to telling people of Christ's promise of eternal life -- the Good News, he calls it." Marcus glanced at the sun. Then he looked again at the dark-skinned man preaching on the wharf. The crowd has grown considerably and the even the half-dozen Roman soldiers in attendance seemed to be listening. "This is all very interesting, but I still have important things to do before we return to Herculaneum," Marcus told Sextus. "And, remember, you have to arrange for the purchase of grain for your bakery?" Sextus smiled. "I will still have time. I want to stay here a while longer and listen. I will meet you on the road to Herculaneum in the morning." "I want to hear more of this new teaching when we get back home," Marcus said, but not really meaning it. Sextus nodded, but his attention had refocused and he was clearly absorbed in the prisoner's words. Marcus turned away and went about his business, forgetting the man on the wharf. Several days later, about sundown, Sextus appeared at his friend's house in Herculaneum. "You wanted to know about Christianity," he said. "Come with me now to a meeting of the brothers and sisters." "Where?" "At the house of M. Lucretius. We meet there in secret. The authorities in Herculaneum usually leave us alone, but we do not tempt the fates by meeting in the open. Do not fear. You will be safe." Lying on his bed in his upper room, Marcus thought fondly of Sextus. That meeting had changed his life and he had become a Christian within the week. A short time later, Sextus was crushed to death by a falling building near the forum, in the terrible earthquake that devastated the countryside. His sons had taken over the bakery, leaving the business in their father's name. Then, a few years ago, Marcus discovered that he was the only surviving member of the original Herculaneum church. All the older members had died, but a new generation had taken their place. As he got older and sicker, the young members began meeting at his house so that he could attend. Then Marcus became bed-ridden and meetings were held right in his bedroom. That was the reason for the crucifix and the cabinet in the room -- it was a permanent altar to God. Earlier in the day, just after the noon meal, Vesuvius had begun erupting. At first citizens watched with fascination. Most had not even realized that their fertile mountain was a volcano. Then as the eruption intensified, fear gripped the population. Those that did not flee the city sought sanctuary in the boathouses on the edge of the bay. Marcus' sons and their wives tried to convince him to go with them. But he was much too feeble and he was too much of a burden for them to carry. "Go without me," he said. "I will be all right. The eruption will soon be over." Reluctantly they had left the old man to his fate. Marcus looked out his window. Occasional flashes of lightning lit up the night. The then was a new sound joined the rumbling -- like the rushing of a terrifying wind. Horrible screams were heard outside. Marcus looked again at the crucifix and asked God for comfort in the hour of death. Just before the terrible heat killed him in instant later, Marcus' final thought was the assurance that this cross, where Jesus had been crucified almost 50 years before, was not a symbol of death. It was a symbol of everlasting life. And he died with thanksgiving on his lips. All day long, the heavy column laden with dust, ash and rock belching from Vesuvius had been supported by sheer force pushing out of the volcano. But, at about 11:30 p.m., that force was momentarily weakened. The superheated cloud collapsed upon itself and started to roll down the side of the mountain. The leading edge of this avalanche was a fast-moving stream of hot ash and gases, hurtling downward at terrific speed. The second part was denser, consisting of pumice, rocks and soil, made liquid by temperatures that approached 750 degrees. The glowing cloud engulfed Herculaneum. Every single soul remaining in the little resort town, including all those who had sought safety in the boathouses, perished instantly. When archeologists uncovered the bakery of Sextus Patulcus Felix, nearly 2,000 years later, they discovered 25 baking pans, supplies of wheat, and stacked coins. They even found bread still in the ovens -- ample evidence of a rush to safety. Nearby, in the so-called House of the Bicentenary (left), they found something even more amazing. On the wall of a large second story room was the shadow of what appeared to be a cross. Below that was a carbonized wooden cabinet. The whole arrangement looked very much like an altar and the discovery gave birth to the theory that there were actually Christians living in Herculaneum at the time of the eruption of Vesuvius. If the theory is true, it would be one of the oldest evidences of the cross as a symbol of Christianity. For the message of the cross is foolishness to those who are perishing, but to us who are being saved it is the power of God. (1 Corinthians 1:18 NIV)
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Copyright 2001 by Ed Price |
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