Phoebe: a Story by Paula Gooder

Author:Paula Gooder [Gooder, Paula]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780830871056
Publisher: InterVarsity Press
Published: 2018-05-04T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 23

It wasn’t long before Titus’s slave returned, but when he appeared, he was alone.

‘Where are they?’ Titus asked sharply. The slave shifted from foot to foot uneasily. He clearly was not looking forward to imparting the news he had to share.

‘Not coming,’ he mumbled.

‘What?’ Titus’s voice was harsh, and not a little outraged. Phoebe twitched. She had forgotten, but now remembered with full force, how frightening Titus could be when thwarted. She didn’t think he meant to be; he had just lived a life in which everything was arranged for his convenience. Like anyone who lived thoroughly at the centre of their own lives, he found it hard to accept when what he wanted did not happen as swiftly and satisfactorily as he thought it should.

‘They cannot come right now,’ the slave clarified, his face pale with fear.

‘Can you tell us why not?’ asked Phoebe as gently as she could, trying not to add to his terror unnecessarily.

‘There was a widow – I think they said her name was Flavia – who was very ill. They were going out as I arrived. They said they were going to care for her. Peter was going too. They thought she might die, and weren’t sure whether she would still be alive when they arrived.’

‘Don’t they know who I am?’ thundered Titus, but Phoebe, feeling stricken, laid her hand on his arm to quieten him. In the year since she had been in Rome, she had taken over the task of overseeing the care of the widows and orphans. Each day they had arrived at Prisca and Aquila’s workshop, and each day she had noticed who was present and who not, and later she would send Felix to enquire after those who were absent to ensure they were all right. Then she would ensure that each one had food enough for the day or days ahead. She knew them all by name; knew what was happening in each of their lives; cared for them, and made sure that no one suffered alone.

She had overseen something very similar in Corinth. The earliest disciples, in those heady days after the sending of the Spirit, had done far more than just care for those with no income. They had shared everything they owned together. Wonderful though this vision had been, it had quickly thrown up as many problems as it had solved – problems that came to a head with the lies and subsequent deaths of Ananias and Sapphira. Phoebe remembered listening agog to the tales of what had happened twenty years before in Jerusalem. Now most communities like theirs shared what they had by caring for those who had nothing. All those who had enough to live on (although regular arguments had arisen in Corinth about who that was) shared with those who did not (even greater arguments had arisen about who that was). The question as to who qualified as a ‘widow’ rumbled on and on. Technically Phoebe was a widow, but she would never have dreamt of asking for support from others.

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