But he was blind, pitiable, just like Samson. He was led by the hand. And this by his victims. For Paul was on a mission – to arrest the trouble-makers, Christians as they were known. Paul had become enmeshed in the Christian affair. There was nobody else like him. He had become a man of one idea, a man who had read one book (and was maybe writing another). And this was in a world where philosophers debated and Stoicism had taken root. There was no excuse for having nothing to do with official religion and its panoply of gods. Polytheism was good at inventing stories but poor at understanding monotheism.
Ananias came into the picture. (He is no Mr Pineapple, as my French readers – if any – will agree.) He was not clear about his role. But he did what he was told in a vision in Straight Street and Paul regained his sight. Ananias was baptized. After a square meal Paul was himself again. He spent some time in Damascus and made good use of it by proclaiming that Jesus was the Christ, the Messiah. Everybody was astounded. More particularly, says the writer, the Jews reacted. So did the believers in Jerusalem. Barnabas, good man, voiced for Paul. His friends smuggled him away to Tarsus. The narrator switched his attention to Peter.
We don’t find it difficult to regard Paul as special, as God’s chosen instrument. He knew people and how to g et the best out of them. He had leadership qualities. He had scholarly credentials. He enjoyed making decisions.
His appearance in the narrative is surprising, none the less. To many he was an unknown quantity – and dangerous at that. He did not have the merit of being a safe pair of hands. Do the religious leaders of the day he was the complete opposite. In those three days of blindness he had learned a lot. But without Ananias he might well have been a Mr Nobody.
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