Editorial May 11, 1992 Issue

Afternoon at Ephesus

Mary Metzner Trammell

A hot, dry wind swept off the Aegean Sea as our tour guide led us down the stone thoroughfare—Curates Street, they called it in Biblical days—through the ruins of the ancient seaport of Ephesus. As he stopped along the way to show us the Trajan Fountain and the Roman baths, we clung whenever we could to the shade of a column or a statue for relief from the blazing August sunlight. All I could think of was that I'd like to stop for a cold drink.

Suddenly our guide wheeled around to rouse us. "Do you realize," he almost shouted, "that you're walking in the footsteps of Paul and John—down the very same street where they walked every day!"

None of us had thought of it that way. And especially for those of us who were Christians, everything the guide showed us from that point on mattered much more. And somehow the heat mattered less.

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