I’ve just completed writing a screenplay about the life of the Apostle Paul from, shall we say, “a unique point of view.” And by doing so, I’m happy to report that I’ve learned two things that I think are invaluable.

First, I’ve learned one of the easiest ways to become an instant social leper in this town – that is, other than to admit publicly that you are a politically conservative Christian. All you have to say to someone is something like, “Hey, I’ve just written a screenplay. Would you like to read it?” Instantly, their eyes cross just before they make an emergency phone call to get that root canal done early and flee.

Apparently, in Santa Monica there are more unproduced screenplays floating around than the combined number of Mercedes and BMW’s on the road being driven by foreigners. Who knew? But, then again, since mine is already written, one might also ask, who cares? I now have in my arsenal of social tools a proven method by which to effectively terminate boring conversations. To me, if my screenplay accomplishes nothing else, wouldn’t you have to agree that this knowledge alone is of considerable future value? It’s kind of like having a lethal boring-small-talk-preemptive-strike weapon.

The second thing I learned as a result of writing this screenplay is what an incredibly interesting person the Apostle Paul was. Yes, before writing it I was already aware that he wrote much of the New Testament. And I also already knew that he probably outdistanced even me as a master of the run-on sentence. But, hey, he had an excuse. He didn’t have a word processor. Rather, what fascinated me was how educated Paul was, the extreme diversity of experiences he’d had, the obstacles he overcame and distances he traveled to reach those he believed needed to hear what he had to tell them. His commitment approached the passion of the Christ he served.

By training, a rabbi scholar. By trade, a tent maker. By calling, an advocate of that to which he had been called by the Lord he professed. He preached whenever, wherever and to whomever it was possible. Often, at the risk of losing his life, but he didn’t seem to care. He was chased, stoned, left for dead, beaten, flogged, imprisoned and shipwrecked many times over, and yet, he continued on always with a truly brave heart.

And when he wasn’t preaching, traveling, making tents or trying to survive the attacks of his enemies, he was writing to those he loved enough to make all that he endured to him seem worthwhile. In short, he afforded a practical demonstration to all of them, and, by the way, to all of us as well, of what Jesus truly intended when he told us that the second greatest commandment of God is for us to love others more than we love ourselves. And so, this man without a face, gave us what is today much of our Bible.

Then, from an attorney’s point of view, what I also appreciated about Paul were the defenses he offered his accusers whenever he was given the opportunity. They were not self-serving, nor were they really defenses at all. Rather, Paul used each occasion not to exonerate himself, but to try to convince those who listened to come before his Lord on bended knee, even though he knew while he was speaking that he was further imperiling himself. In short, he considered their hearing of the message he was delivering to them more important than even his own life; a ransom he was gladly willing to pay.

Moreover, when he was last in Jerusalem, the outcome of each of Paul’s oratories was equally amazing. He started presenting his testimony before the local authorities, and from there he graduated to speaking before the local Roman governor, then his successor, then the King of Israel, and finally he found himself in Rome presenting his case to Caesar himself. That is impressive. And all the while, until almost the very end that is, though he was found innocent of any wrongdoing by those who heard his plea, to placate the people who were opposed to him, each of these authorities placed him under house arrest. That, in turn, afforded him the freedom to receive visitors and write many of his letters that became so much of what is the New Testament today. Therefore, in a sense, one of the greatest ironies produced by the prosecution of Paul was that for many years the pagan government of Rome, in effect, unwittingly ended up subsidizing Paul’s efforts to effectively promote his bountiful faith throughout their very own empire from within the confines in which they themselves had placed him.

In the end, of course, it is said that he was beheaded, but even when confronted with that consequence of his life’s calling, he graciously welcomed it as but another opportunity. He viewed it as crossing the finish line of a race he had been running for nearly forty years. Finally he would be enabled to commence the eternal life for which he believed he had been created. He had finished the course, and was satisfied that he had run the race with strength, endurance, character and integrity. That was all this maverick needed to know to welcome the end gladly.

These insights into the life of such a man made the writing about Paul a worthwhile experience. Interestingly, Paul, in many ways, was not too unlike either you or me. His life demonstrated what can be accomplished if an otherwise ordinary person is of a mind to try and then commits himself to making the effort. And, in the end, my being made aware of that fact is to me probably the best thing yet to have come out of my writing the screenplay, making the doing of it worthwhile, even if from here on out I only dust it off occasionally to use at cocktail parties where I anticipate the conversations could be boring. For me, that’s payback enough.

Oh, and did I mention that I think Mel Gibson would be perfect for the part?

© 2006 Clifford C. Nichols, Esq.

Cliff Nichols is an attorney practicing criminal defense in Santa Monica, California. He may be contacted regarding this editorial at either (310) 909-9024, cliff@cliffnicholslaw.com or www.cliffnicholslaw.com and you may join his blog at www.thedailystand.com