31 X Man, Risen from the Dead “Yes,” he said, absently. “I think I have heard of the only really new thing in the world.” Then Dionysius recounted to her what had happened. It was a day like all others. Then a smallish ugly Jew with a hoarse voice, having waited his turn, ascended the portico to speak. A knot of Epicurean philosophers gathered at one side, they who believe that the world is a poor wreck of a place. They retreat from public service, and indeed from anything that might disrupt their days. Their great hope is not for joy, but for the absence of pain; a short life of philosophical chatter by the riverside, with the spring flowers in bloom, and some bread and cheese and oil and fruit. Their bodies may be young, but their spirits are old, and they have nowhere to go. Another knot of philosophers gathered at the other side, the Stoics. They thrust themselves into public service, not because it brings them joy, but because it is their duty. They too hold the world in scorn. “Your son has died,” someone might say to the staunch Stoic. “And when did I ever say he was immortal?” the Stoic was to reply. They too were old, and had nowhere to go. Then the Jew began to speak. Saint Paul upon the Hill of Ares “Men of Athens,” he said, with a trace of irony, “I see you are religious people indeed! While I was
RkJQdWJsaXNoZXIy NzMzNzY=