Culture War: Risking All against What Is Evil

Years ago I read the following true narrative from Charles Colson’s Loving God. It marked me for life. In posting it for you today, I’m hoping that maybe it will mark you, too.

“In the fourth century there lived an Asiatic monk who had spent most of his life in a remote community of prayer, raising vegetables for the cloister kitchen. When he was not tending his garden spot, he was fulfilling his vocation of study and prayer.

Then one day this monk named Telemachus felt that the Lord wanted him to go to Rome, the busiest, wealthiest, biggest city in the world. Telemachus had no idea why he should go there, and he was terrified at the thought. But as he prayed, God’s directive became clear. He was sure God wanted him to go to Rome.

He arrived there during the holiday festival. The city was bustling with excitement over the recent Roman victory over the Goths. In the midst of this jubilant commotion, the monk looked for clues as to why God had brought him there, for he had no other guidance, not even a superior in a religious order to contact.

'Perhaps,' he thought, 'it is not sheer coincidence that I have arrived at this festival time. Perhaps God has some special role for me to play.'

So Telemachus let the crowds guide him, and the stream of humanity soon led him into the Coliseum where the gladiator contests were to be staged. He could hear the cries of the animals in their cages beneath the floor of the great arena and the clamor of the contestants preparing to do battle.

The gladiators marched into the arena, saluted the emperor, and shouted, 'We who are about to die salute thee.' Telemachus shuddered. He had never heard of gladiator games before, but had a premonition of awful violence.

The crowd had come to cheer men who, for no reason other than amusement, would murder each other. Human lives were taken for the purpose of entertainment. As the monk realized what was going to happen, he realized he could not sit still and watch such savagery. Neither could he leave and forget it. He jumped to the top of the perimeter wall and cried, 'In the name of Christ, forbear!' [That means, "STOP"]

The fighting began, of course. No one paid the slightest heed to the puny voice. So Telemachus pattered down the stone steps and leapt onto the sandy floor of the arena. He made a comic figure--a scrawny man in a monk’s habit dashing back and forth between muscular, armed athletes. One gladiator sent him sprawling with a blow from his shield, directing him back to his seat. It was a rough gesture, though almost a kind one. The crowd roared.

But Telemachus refused to stop. He rushed into the way of those trying to fight, shouting again, 'In the name of Christ, forbear!' The crowd began to laugh and cheer him on, perhaps thinking that he was part of the entertainment.

Then his movement blocked the vision of one of the contestants; so that the gladiator only saw a blow coming just in time. His interruption angered the crowd. They began to cry for his blood. 'Run him through,' they screamed.

The gladiator he had blocked, raised his sword and with a flash of steel struck Telemachus, slashing down across his chest and into his stomach. The little monk gasped once more, 'In the name of Christ, forbear,' and collapsed onto the sand.

Then a strange thing occurred. As the two gladiators and the crowd focused on the still form on the suddenly crimson sand, the arena grew deathly quiet. In the silence, someone in the top tier got up and walked out. Another followed. All over the arena, spectators began to leave, until the huge stadium was emptied.

There were other forces at work, of course, but that one, innocent figure lying in the pool of blood crystallized the opposition, and that was the last gladiator contest in the Roman Coliseum. Never again did men kill each other for the crowds’ entertainment in the Roman arena.”

I wonder: what are we willing to sacrifice to stop the bloodshed today?