Ugh. I have the most annoying story to report. I was just minding my own business in Jericho today when--Oh, um. Sorry. Let me start over, properly this time. I am an educated man after all. Excuse me. It's just that today's events have ruffled me a bit. Back to normal, now...
Alas, as I was calmly making my way down the road in Jericho, attending to the day's business with a vigor that always becomes a man serving G-d (can't be fully writing His Name, now, can we?), my diligent work--not to mention my delicate and tender nature--was quite disturbed by an unnecessary rabble flooding through the street as if they had lost every ounce of their already quite fragile sanity. Fortunately, I was able to move to the edge of the street just before the crowd reached me. My disgust was heightened when that hideous dwarf, that despicable tax collector Zacchaeus nearly trampled upon my recently cleaned feet in his rush. He looked madder than all the others combined, his eyes flickering right and left and his little legs stumbling all over the place as he dashed in front of the crowd and headed straight for a sycamore-fig tree down the road.
The crowd grew more and more ecstatic as they filed past me, all exclaiming silly things like, "Jesus of Nazareth! Yes, he's here!" Hmmph. All this bustle for a "teacher." Surely he doesn't deserve that title--or any other title but those too lowly for a distinguished man like myself to bother typing. Keeping my chin up and my lips set--for I mustn't show any emotional response to such a disgraceful scene--I waited patiently for the pathetic parade to pass.
What happened next, however, shook me to my very core--but I must tell you, to ease your own soul, that I made it through the furnace of this temptation with only a slight singe, and the few hours of passionate public prayer in which I engaged afterwards will have cured me of this, I am sure.
Anyway--oh! How I loathe to record such a scandalous scene! Stay, soul. Retain your dignity. My dear friends, here is what happened.
I caught a glimpse of the "teacher" as he made his way down the road. Ah, if he only knew who was touching him! His smile gave me chills. How could any respectable fellow smile when the grubby hands of those foul sinners were all over his robes?
He continued his ridiculous rambling down the street. I watched him, for I had nothing else to do while I waited for this dreadful crowd to pass. And, lo! As I watched, he stopped, right under the sycamore-fig tree. My heart sank. What was he going to do? Then he looked up at the tree and exclaimed, "Zacchaeus, come down immediately. I must stay at your house today."
Oh, how vile! The dirty tax collector had climbed the tree like a darned fool--and now this offensive teacher wanted to eat with him? Surely he knows the significance of sharing a meal in our culture! Bah! He wanted to be friends with this tax collector!
Forgive me. I do not mean to be angry, but my zeal for the law is burning in my chest as I recall this awful event. G-d knows I disdain all sinners, and it's just infuriating that this Jesus would misrepresent all teachers of the law by lowering himself to eat with them.
Anyway, the scene grew all the more ridiculous as Zacchaeus scrambled down the tree and waddled along the road to his house with Jesus. One encouraging fact was that the crowd seemed just as disconcerted as I was. I heard many mumble, "He has gone to be the guest of a 'sinner.'"
In response to this, the silly tax collector stood up and said to Jesus, "Look, Lord!" (He really used that title!) "Here and now I give half of my possessions to the poor, and if I have cheated anybody out of anything, I will pay back four times the amount."
As if that could save him, after all he's done! Don't get me wrong: I'll be glad to get back the money that fool stole from me. But still. The point is that he's acting as though works don't matter at all, as if G-d could really love him right here and now.
And what's even worse is that that teacher, that Jesus of Nazareth, agreed with him! He said, "Today salvation has come to this house, because this man, too, is a son of Abraham. For the Son of Man came to seek and to save what was lost."
Oh, how my righteous heart cringes at these words. As if "faith" could save. No, no. Scandalous, I tell you. G-d would just never do such a thing. He just wouldn't save a bunch of sinners.
Hmmph. Alas, friend, it is past. I shall not burden you with the raging ridiculousness of this so-called Rabbi any longer. It's time for supper anyway. Don't forget to wash your hands before you eat.
-----------------------
For the biblical account of Zacchaeus' story, see Luke 19:1-10. My prayer is that you find our Lord's scandalous grace as refreshing as Zacchaeus did, for the Son of Man really did come to seek and save the lost. He loved this tax collector, and He loves you too. Praise be to God!
No comments:
Post a Comment