There he was. Sitting in his own house! What wind had favored his abode that day? Who was he that a Rabbi of such repute, one most others thought to be the Messiah himself, would come and dine with? He? The tax-collector? It didn’t add up. Most things in his short life didn’t add up either. His father was tall and strongly built; he, a splitting image of his father, had the body of a fourteen year old. It was well enough that his pocket had heights and depths others could only dream of. Still, in spite of his wealth, there were no obvious reasons why the Rabbi picked him. Perhaps it was to mock him, and create mirth for the people trying to catch a glimpse of him outside the window. The scoundrels! They had mocked him as he grappled with that winding tree branch, creating a stir as the Rabbi passed. He had much to thank them for though. He got noticed. Now the one all of Israel thronged after, the young Rabbi that straddled the thin line between the Pharisees’ wonder and deep hatred, found his abode fitting for luxury. Life does have its ups. He smiled as the Rabbi, from the corner he had come to observe him, delicately downed the rich bread before him. He observed his peculiarities – like dipping bread into the cup of rich wine or sticking his finger into the concomitant mixture and stirring, crumbs et al. Water…he’ll need water…
‘Josephus! Water! With a white cloth, now!’ he whispered forcefully to his servant – trying to
remain oblivious. He failed – the Rabbi turned and his eyes found him out amidst the frantic
movements and the loud din that had enveloped the room.
‘Zacchaeus!’ The noise immediately zeroed down to a few humble decibels. ‘Your wine surely was pressed by the feet of angels’. Zacchaeus ran out, almost tipping over another waif he had hired as servant, responding ‘Nay Great Teacher! The angels will not condescend to perform such a service to one…one as unworthy as your servant! Still, there is more, more to…’ The Rabbi waved his raised hand slowly, interrupting him, then let it drop so beautifully on his beard. ‘If I have any more Zacchaeus, I shall lose this beard of mine’. Many laughed generously; a beardless old man in the corner even clapped his hand twice with his laughter. ‘I appreciate your graceful hospitality, Zacchaeus. But we have come to talk, not so? Please sit, and do not bother about what more I shall eat or drink. I have a question for you.’ Here was the moment. The Jews have a legend about the Law-Giver. They say when Moses descended from the Sinai regions, his face shone like a hundred torches, and yet, when it was touched, it was as cool as the morning dew on the manna in the fields. The older Rabbis said that the Almighty loved questions, riddles and paradoxes, and that he often threw them in the way of his children, not to confound them, but to frustrate their complacency and move them into new lands of thought. Zacchaeus felt that way this very moment. He felt the tense mockery of frustration welling up in him and the stern features of a paradox. He was thrilled to sit next to one so…so authentic as this Rabbi, and yet he felt a sickening feeling. Perhaps it was the thought of being confronted with his misdemeanors – which had no end. Perhaps it was the eyes haunting him in the room. Perhaps it was Josephus’ bad cooking.
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A Day with Zacchaeus (If Jesus were a Christian) – PART 1
Posted by davidluiz in Messages, Poems
‘Josephus! Water! With a white cloth, now!’ he whispered forcefully to his servant – trying to
remain oblivious. He failed – the Rabbi turned and his eyes found him out amidst the frantic
movements and the loud din that had enveloped the room.
‘Zacchaeus!’ The noise immediately zeroed down to a few humble decibels. ‘Your wine surely was pressed by the feet of angels’. Zacchaeus ran out, almost tipping over another waif he had hired as servant, responding ‘Nay Great Teacher! The angels will not condescend to perform such a service to one…one as unworthy as your servant! Still, there is more, more to…’ The Rabbi waved his raised hand slowly, interrupting him, then let it drop so beautifully on his beard. ‘If I have any more Zacchaeus, I shall lose this beard of mine’. Many laughed generously; a beardless old man in the corner even clapped his hand twice with his laughter. ‘I appreciate your graceful hospitality, Zacchaeus. But we have come to talk, not so? Please sit, and do not bother about what more I shall eat or drink. I have a question for you.’ Here was the moment. The Jews have a legend about the Law-Giver. They say when Moses descended from the Sinai regions, his face shone like a hundred torches, and yet, when it was touched, it was as cool as the morning dew on the manna in the fields. The older Rabbis said that the Almighty loved questions, riddles and paradoxes, and that he often threw them in the way of his children, not to confound them, but to frustrate their complacency and move them into new lands of thought. Zacchaeus felt that way this very moment. He felt the tense mockery of frustration welling up in him and the stern features of a paradox. He was thrilled to sit next to one so…so authentic as this Rabbi, and yet he felt a sickening feeling. Perhaps it was the thought of being confronted with his misdemeanors – which had no end. Perhaps it was the eyes haunting him in the room. Perhaps it was Josephus’ bad cooking.
To continue reading, click here.