The Corinth Letters

Prologue – March, AD 50

The man speaking was definitely not one of the greatest orators Linus had ever heard. He had a thin, reedy voice that would start to grate on the nerves after a while. He was certainly not much to look at, being short in stature and quite bald. And he was constantly repeating himself! He kept coming back to this one point: that the Jewish Anointed One had come and had been crucified by the Romans. But this had not been the end. Somehow, he had come back to life, or — if this man was to be believed — to some even-more-alive-life than before. It was all rather confusing and almost certainly completely foolish.

Yet Linus kept coming back for more; not for what the man Paul said but for what he did. Over the last few weeks Linus had seen with his own eyes a number of amazing miracles of healing: a man with feet that had been crippled from birth was now walking around without even the slightest limp; a woman who had been deaf for years was now able to hear and speak again; a girl who had been possessed by a demon that had tortured her into living wild in the nearby hills was now free and had returned to live with her family. All of these healings — and more! — had been at the hand of this Paul. He was indeed a powerful man. But then he always gave the credit to this once-dead-but-somehow-alive-again Jewish Anointed One, Iēsus.

So here he was again, giving up what little free time he had from the pottery workshop to listen to this man. He had not even had time to clean the clay out from under his fingernails or shake off the coating of dust on his usually brown hair. Arriving late, he had had to sit on a mat near the back of the atrium in the house of Gaius Titius Justus, peering between the shoulders of the handful of men seated in front of him to even catch a glimpse of the man, while Paul droned on and on — something about a spiritual life or life in a spirit, but it was all beyond Linus’ understanding. If it had not been so cold, he would have been fighting to stay awake.

His thoughts turned to his father. Nikomedes had expressed his disapproval of Linus’ interest in this Jewish man. If it was not for their mistress Chloe and her recent declaration that her household would no longer follow the traditional gods there would be no way he would be allowed to be here. But Linus glanced over towards where the women were seated and saw Chloe reclining on a couch with another well-born woman – Linus had heard her name was Prisca – her eyes glued to Paul, devouring all that he was saying.

Suddenly there came a loud knocking at the front door. Paul stopped mid-sentence as Gaius sent a slave into the vestibulum to find out who was there. There had recently been some rumours circulating, indicating that some of the Jews in the city were unhappy about what Paul had been teaching, and that they might do something about it. So far nothing had happened as far as Linus had heard, but the leader of this little gathering was clearly on edge.

However, it turned out to be a man carrying his young son, followed by a woman who must have been the man’s wife and mother of the boy. The boy was clearly very sick; he was pale, apparently shivering with cold, yet sweating so profusely that his father’s tunic was visibly wet. Gaius led the man to the front where Paul was waiting, his eyes closed as if mentally preparing himself for the task at hand: these people had clearly come for a healing.

Linus was instantly fully awake. This is what he had come for, too!

Paul opened his eyes, laid his hands on the boy’s head, and then prayed aloud: Father in heaven, in the name of your son, Iēsus the Anointed One, bring healing to this dear child of yours.

It was such a simple prayer, nothing like the elaborate prayers Linus was used to hearing from the mouths of the local priests and various temple healers. It was as though Paul had direct contact with the Divine. And Linus had noted that there was no first asking for monetary recompense from the sick boy’s father, either. Paul’s god, it seemed, would heal for free.

But would he heal this boy? It was the question on everyone’s lips as they all stared at the boy, waiting to see what would happen. At first, nothing seemed to have changed. Then, gradually, the colour started coming back into his face and the shivering stopped. As the father wiped the sweat off his son’s face it was not immediately replaced.

Yes! Paul’s god had indeed healed the boy.

Oh, sir, cried the boy’s father, with tears in his eyes, thank you! What little I have I will give you…

Friend, replied Paul firmly, there is no need. God, through his son Iēsus, and by the power of the Holy Spirit, has given you this healing as a gift. Go in peace! Better yet, stay and hear what this God does require of you: to believe in the one who was sent among us and to call on his name that you might be saved.

The man with the boy now sleeping peacefully in his arms did indeed sit down on the floor with the other men and his wife took a place among the other women present. But Linus was lost in thought. The word ‘gift’ kept going over and over in his mind. The healing had been a gift; it was not earned through a prior life of good works, and it was not paid for afterwards with money or sacrifices. This god was different to any other he had heard of! Even though he did not really understand why this Iēsus had died or even what ‘resurrection’ really meant, Linus wanted to believe.

So when Paul came to the end of his talk and asked if anyone present wanted to become a follower of Iēsus, Linus responded. It was the beginning of his new life in the Way.

September, AD 2013

The moment was imprinted onto Matt’s brain for the rest of his life: the moment he made eye-contact with Emily across the crowded taverna in a back street of Corinth, Greece. He had come to the taverna on the recommendation of another backpacker staying at his hostel; apparently their baklava was second to none. But he had only just arrived when he heard the most enchanting peal of laughter coming from across the room. Catching a glimpse of a young woman in her early twenties, her head thrown back in delight at something the person seated opposite had said, he was instantly struck by her profile and the way her hair shimmered as she moved. He then surreptitiously circled the room so as to get a better look at her face.

After studying her for five minutes, he still could not decide why he found her so attractive. Her face was appealing, yes, but perhaps not what you would call beautiful. He had certainly gone out with prettier girls. Yet the more he watched her in conversation with her friend – a girl he was pleased to note – the more he could not look away. Finally he decided it was the way her eyes sparkled with passion about whatever it was she was telling her friend. That and the way her gestures became larger the more excited she became. Oh, and her smile really did light up her face. And that laugh! It was magical.

Suddenly, she looked up and their eyes met. The sounds of the crowded taverna faded away and Matt was alone in the room with the girl with the stunning smile.

Then, as if nothing of significance had taken place, she had looked back to her friend and continued talking.

Matt knew he had to do something to extend that moment as much as he could. So he did what any other confident young Australian male would do in such a situation. He pushed his way through the throng of young Greek men and women until he was standing next to the table at which the girl was sitting, her conversation interrupted by his sudden appearance.

G’day, Matt said with what he hoped was an air of studied nonchalance. The name’s Matt. Can I buy you… and your friend a drink? He hoped the pause had not been too noticeable.

She looked at him for what felt like an eternity. Eventually she replied, You’re Australian, I hear?

Matt smiled. "Indeed, and it seems that you’re from the US of A."

Don’t hold it against me, she said.

Not at all! So what’ll it be?

Again, she paused. Finally she appeared to reach a decision. My name’s Emily. I’ll have a glass of red… She looked across at her friend who nodded at her almost-empty glass. And Mariam will have some more retsina.

Coming right up.

Breathing a sigh of relief Matt moved over to the bar, caught the attention of the barman, placed his order — he also chose a glass of red wine — and waited for the drinks to be poured. He was very conscious of Emily and Mariam’s eyes on him as he collected the drinks and took them back to the table. Mariam made room for him by shuffling sideways, so after placing the drinks on the table he sat down next to her. But, as he noted to himself, this left him facing Emily, which was fine by him. As he sat back, he took a moment to examine her up-close and he liked what he saw. Her shoulder-length dark brown hair framed her face perfectly. Her eyes were blue with green flecks, and she had a smattering of freckles across her cheeks, only just visible in the dim lighting of the taverna. The effect was bewitching.

By this time both girls had picked up her glasses.

Are you attempting to flatter me by choosing the same drink? asked Emily with a smile.

No, replied Matt, picking up his own glass. Red wine, it so happens, is my drink of choice, too. And turning to Mariam he added, Retsina is fine on occasions, but it can be a little overpowering on its own. Goes much nicer with moussaka, something like that.

Hmm, said Mariam, not one to hold back on sharing your opinions, are you?

Matt looked a little embarrassed.

I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to insult you.

No problem, replied Mariam. She took a sip of her retsina. Yes, it can be strong on the palette, but I like that!

Emily turned to Matt. So thanks for the drinks. Now, did you want to stay and chat, or was that it?

Matt took a sip of his red. Oh, I’d love to continue our conversation, if I may. For starters, what brings you to this interesting part of the world?

Emily leaned back in her seat, crossed her legs and rested her glass on her knee.

I’m working on an archaeological site not far from here.

Really? replied Matt. So you’re an archaeologist?

Yes, though not for very long. I recently graduated with a Masters from Boston University and intend to go on and do a PhD in the not-too-distant future. But I thought it would be worth getting some more field experience first.

Plenty of opportunities here in Greece, I’m sure, said Matt, taking another sip of his wine.

Sure is, replied Emily. Mariam here and I are working together on a dig over in the old part of Corinth.

Not wanting to neglect Mariam in this conversation, Matt took Emily’s hint. And I take it you’re a local?

What gave me away? replied Mariam with a laugh. My accent or my love of retsina?

Well, a bit of both, perhaps?

Yes, I’m a local in that I was born in Greece. But I’m not from Corinth; I grew up in Athens.

And you’re also an archaeologist?

Yes. I’m working on a post-grad thing at the moment, but digs help pay the bills.

Hardly! laughed Emily. "This dig barely has any budget to speak of. Really, we’re only doing it because we believe in it – and it’ll look good on my curriculum vitae. She leaned forward and placed her glass on the table. But enough about us. What about you, Matt?"

Oh, I’m here for the food! Can’t get enough of it: char-grilled lamb with garlic and lemon juice is a definite favourite — always has been — and they can do things with seafood and tomatoes that beggars the imagination!

Emily and Mariam laughed.

Don’t they have Greek restaurants in Australia? asked Mariam.

They do, replied Matt, but I wanted to immerse myself completely. You know, a cultural and… epicurial experience.

Is ‘epicurial’ even a word? asked Emily with a smile.

It is in my book, said Matt confidently.

And has it been as good as you’d hoped? asked Mariam.

Matt nodded. Indeed, possibly even better than I thought it would. In fact, there’s this little place not far from here, perhaps you would like to… He trailed off, his confidence ebbing.

Are you talking to me or Mariam? asked Emily.

Well, I… that is, I was… er, you, he replied sheepishly.

So, we’ve barely met and you want to ask me out on a date?

Definitely!

Emily was quiet for a few moments, and then glanced over at Mariam who was smiling. Finally she replied.

Sure, why not.

Excellent! Shall we say tomorrow? Do you want to meet me there?

OK, said Emily, shrugging.

Matt proceeded to give her the address details, finishing up by suggesting they get there around 6pm to avoid the later-arriving crowds. Then, finishing off the last of his red wine, he stood up.

Well, thank you ladies, for allowing me to interrupt your conversation. I will not intrude upon your time any longer. Mariam, I trust we shall meet again. And, Emily, until tomorrow…

Without waiting for a reply, he slipped through the throng and was gone. Never overstay your welcome, he thought. Keep them wanting more…

He exited the taverna into the crisp night air. So her name was Emily. What a beautiful name; and what stunning smile! Looks like my Greece experience is going to get a little more historical…

Emily looked over at Mariam, who had one eyebrow raised.

Yes, he seems nice enough, Emily answered the unspoken question, with his blonde, surfer-boy hair and cheek dimples, if you like that type of thing.

Mariam said nothing.

Hey, no smirking! Okay, he was cute. But I’m not here to hook up; I’m meant to be working.

"You know, you could do both. Though maybe I should tell him to come back in 2,000 years, then you’ll be more interested."

Not fair! Though it was pretty amazing today when we found that pottery shard with a new maker’s mark. Think of it, two millennia ago someone created that, spent hours smoothing it with their fingers. I wonder what were they thinking about as they made it?

Mariam shrugged. Possibly ‘what’s for dinner?’ 

Emily sighed. You have no romance in your soul.

It’s okay, you have enough for the two of us.

Fine, I’m a romantic, but just imagine how amazing it would be if this turned out to be an early Christian house church?

Mariam gave her friend a cynical stare. An early Christian house church? How would you even know?

Emily frowned. I’m not sure. Christian carvings, perhaps? Anyway, it’s just a theory; it’s not like I’m setting my hopes on it.

I’m glad, because otherwise I think they would come crashing down.

Well then, here’s to hopes not crashing. Emily held out her glass to Mariam.

And here’s to cute Australians trying to chat us up, Mariam added with a wink.

March, AD 55

Linus was standing in Corinth’s bustling agora, deciding whether he could afford to buy a new pair of sandals, when his friend Rufus spotted him through the crowd and ran over, his face red, breathing hard.

Linus, he panted, I’ve been looking for you everywhere.

Rufus! replied Linus. What’s the problem?

Rufus held up his hand. Just give me a minute. As Rufus recovered his breath, Linus waited patiently. He looked on Rufus as a younger brother, seventeen to Linus’ twenty-two years. Linus was an only child – at least none of his siblings had made it through their early years – and consequently he enjoyed hanging out with Rufus when they both managed to get away from their places of work. But Rufus was apprenticed to a tanner who had a reputation for being a harsh master so that meant those times were infrequent. However, Rufus would try and make the weekly gathering at Chloe’s house whenever he could.

Well, it’s clearly not as important as all that, said Linus with a smile. Rufus was known for his tendency to over-react. If they were not both followers of the Way, Linus might have said that his friend was destined to be a famous dramatic actor. But such a role would raise too many problems, even if they allowed so-called ‘atheists’ to participate.

So what is it? he asked again.

Is there somewhere to sit down? asked Rufus, looking around wearily. The agora was full of sellers loudly hawking their wares, often competing with one another in an attempt to attract a crowd. For, as everyone knows, when there is a crowd there is more of a chance of making a sale. And when one person buys something (and if that person happens to be a relative of the seller, how is that harming anyone?) others are likely to follow. However, the end result of this popular marketing strategy was that the noise in the agora could be overwhelming at times. Looking through the crowd, Linus spotted a surprisingly unoccupied stone bench at the edge of the agora far enough away from the noisiest hawkers. So Linus led the way and sat down. Rufus practically collapsed in a heap next to him, still panting heavily.

I went to your workshop, but you weren’t there. When I asked at the back entrance of Chloe’s house, your mother said you had gone to the agora, so that’s why I eventually found you.

Yes, yes, replied Linus testily. That’s all very interesting, but clearly not the reason why you were looking for me, is it?

No, replied Rufus. It’s about Alexis. Then he paused, suddenly unwilling to share his news.

What about him?

Alexis was a young man, an acquaintance of theirs, known to them because they all attended the assembly that met in Gaius’ home. Alexis, though, was from a relatively wealthy family and so he did not interact much with those of lower societal standing.

Looking around, as if he did not want to be overheard, Rufus said quietly, Well, he’s…er… living with Korinna.

Linus started. His step-mother? That Korinna?

Rufus nodded solemnly.

And when you say ‘living with’, Linus said warily, you don’t mean ‘sleeping with’?

Rufus nodded again.

Linus was horrified. But that’s appalling, sickening! How can he do such a thing?

Rufus shrugged. I heard this from Nikolaus who heard it from Alexis himself. And apparently Alexis quoted ‘Everything is permissible’. He was quite pleased about the situation, I understand.

Linus closed his eyes for a moment and sighed. Oh, not that again!

Yes, I thought you would be interested.

I wonder what the elders will do? said Linus eventually.

I guess we’ll find out soon enough, replied Rufus. The next full gathering is in two days.

Indeed. As the agora crowds milled about them Linus tried not to allow his naturally pessimistic nature to get the better of him. But it was a difficult battle.

Standing up and offering a hand to Rufus in order to help him to his feet, he said, Well, I can’t hang around here all day. I’d better get back to the workshop. The life of a slave is definitely not one of leisure, you know, even with a decent mistress like Chloe.

Don’t I know it! said Rufus with a grimace.

Together, they crossed the agora, took their leave and then headed off in different directions in order to get back to their respective places of work. As he hurried along, Linus could not shake one thought in particular: I wonder what Paul would have to say about this, if only he were to find out?

September, AD 2013

Niko’s restaurant was a small establishment, nestled into a hillside with views overlooking the rest of Corinth. Matt had stumbled across the place a week ago on his way back from souvenir hunting in some antique shops recommended by his Lonely Planet guidebook. The book had said nothing about Niko’s restaurant, though. So it had been a bit of an experiment to go inside, be led to a table out the back under an ancient vine trellis, and order his favourite dish: lamb, preceded by a couple of starters. Yet the food when it arrived had been absolutely stunning; and the prices had actually been quite reasonable, two factors that made it eminently suitable for a date. In fact, there were only two reasons he could think of for why the place had not been included in the guidebook. Either it was so new it had not existed when the writers had come through the region. Or, more likely, they had found the place and had been so entranced that they wanted to keep it a secret so that they would always be able to get a table whenever they wished.

Matt wanted to arrive before Emily to make sure they got a nice table so he arrived at 5:45pm. The waiter initially indicated one of the interior tables. But Matt was hoping for one of the outdoor ones, on the hillside under the trellis. The sun would be setting around 7:30pm and the view would be spectacular.

He placed an order for mixed dips for two, adding that someone would be arriving to join him shortly, and could he possibly arrange for the dips to arrive just after that? The waiter nodded understandingly.

Matt settled back in his chair to wait for Emily, looking out over the rooftops of the houses below. Within a couple of minutes the waiter was back, ushering Emily to the table. Matt stood up hurriedly.

Emily! So good to see you again.

Hi Matt, Emily replied with a smile. Nice place: you were right.

The waiter assisted her to sit down in her the chair before disappearing back inside. Matt also sat down, marvelling once again at Emily’s smile.

I hope you don’t mind but I took the liberty of ordering some dips to get things started.

Sounds good.

The waiter, true to his nod, was back, carrying a tray with dips and bread strips that had been drizzled in olive oil and then lightly oven-baked. He was also carrying a couple of menus under his arm which he handed to Matt and Emily, promising to return in a few minutes to take their order.

As they sampled the dips they also perused the menus.

I’m thinking about trying the flame-grilled octopus, said Emily. Would you recommend it?

I’ve only been here a couple of times, replied Matt, and I’ve never tried that particular dish. But the grilled fish I had last time was fresh and beautifully cooked, so I think you can’t go wrong.

When the waiter returned, Emily ordered the octopus and a glass of white wine; Matt had decided to try the moussaka.

And I’ll have some retsina, he added.

Mariam would be pleased, said Emily, smiling.

And how is Mariam today? asked Matt.

She’s fine.

And the dig? Did you find anything?

Oh, progress is slow, so there’s not really much to report after only one day.

Now I don’t really know much about archaeology. What are you digging up?

Emily sat back as the waiter returned with their drinks. Well, it’s a private residence, dating back to the first century AD. She took a sip of the wine and frowned slightly.

Is it OK? asked Matt worriedly.

Oh, it’s fine. As you know, I prefer a nice drop of red, but I thought white would be better with the octopus. Once the food is here it will be perfect. She put the glass down. Anyway, so far we’ve found a few household items — oil lamps, pottery shards, that sort of thing — but nothing really interesting.

Are you looking for something in particular?

Oh, you can’t get involved in a dig if you have something specific in mind: you will almost certainly be disappointed. The whole point of archaeology is looking at what’s there, not what you hope might be there.

Oh, replied Matt, his turn to frown. I told you I didn’t know anything about it.

That’s OK. Emily paused again as she spooned some of the tzatziki dip onto a piece of bread. Actually, she said after a while, "you’re not too far wrong. I am hoping to find something."

What? asked Matt in surprise.

"Well, I would love to find some sort of evidence that would suggest that the location was used by the early Christians as a house church."

Really!

"Yes, the house goes back to the first century, so it’s certainly possible. But there weren’t that many Christians at that time, so the odds are not all that great. And even if it was a house church, that doesn’t mean evidence proving that fact has lasted from then until now. I was actually talking about this with Mariam after you left last night."

Oh, said Matt, with a fake