“Stop! Stop!” cried the man. “Do you want to buy, rob me, or just drive me mad!”
“No, I do not want to buy!”
“But you just said..”
“I want a robe and a cloak and..”
“We heard what you want!”
“I think I know what you want”.
“You want a free bed for the night- in the jail!”
“And perhaps a warm flogging for breakfast”.
“No! Please. I am sorry I startled you, but it is important.
“What is?”
“That I get the clothes”.
“But you do not want to buy the clothes?”
I could not answer this; only shake my head.
“Then how will you get them?”
I paused, and reflected how sweetly impossible was this concept of love and generosity and kindness with which Jesus beguiled himself. I suddenly became afraid that such warm innocence must always be quickly disenchanted or destroyed. Lost in my thoughts, I noticed a piece of woollen material, of a pleasant brown colour, poking out of the bundle on the floor. I sank to my knees to touch it.
“My husband asked how will you get the clothes? Will you steal them? Will you steal from us? You are a lazy sort of thief, are you not? Do you usually sit down for a rest, half way through robbing someone?”
The woman knew I was obviously no thief, and was gently making fun of me. Her lack of aggression made me feel even more hopeless. I looked up at her, and said, quite simply-
“Jesus said you would give them to me”.
“Jesus?” she asked. “Who is this Jesus that he should give away our goods?”
“A rabbi; the Son of the old carpenter in Nazareth” I replied, lamely.
“When did anything good come out of Nazareth?”
This last was spoken by another, a young man standing among the handful of people who had stopped to watch this strange spectacle, and among whom there now ran a murmur of laughter at this old witticism.
“You mind your own business!” snapped the woman to the stranger, “and the answer to your question is ‘a week ago’ when my husband and I left our son’s home in Nazareth to come back here. Now my strange friend..” turning to me again “..why did you say this Jesus wants these clothes?”
“We found a traveller who is very ill, and my master is helping him. He was lying in the road….his clothes were torn…” I dare not mention Leprosy or I would surely have been set upon with staves.
“Had he been attacked and robbed?”
Possibly so; he couldn’t speak”. Attacked by leprosy and robbed of contact with his fellow creatures, though worse than what she meant, was definitely not her meaning, and I lacked the temerity to lie outright.
“Husband, let him take the clothes he needs..”
“So now we work for fools and tricksters!”
“It is the truth!” I yelled.
“Calm yourself,” said the woman. “Let him take what he needs, and we will hope that if we are robbed on the way home, this Jesus will be around to do the same for us. Now- a cloak- here, plain but heavy. Keep the cold out. A robe? Mm…ah, this is a nice clean homespun; lots of wear left in it, but old enough to have softened. And a pair of sandals, you say?”
Here the husband dourly picked up another, smaller bundle and dropped it, without speaking, at his wife’s feet.
“Ah, yes. My bundle for sandals”. As she untied it, she looked first at her grim faced husband, then at me, as she said, conspiratorially- “You know, that robe’s not unlike my husband. He’s got plenty of wear left in him, but he’s old enough to have softened. Aah here’s a good pair! Supple but thick enough to carry you to Egypt”.
I sat there on the floor, still. I was bemused.
“Well?” barked the husband. “Will that do you, or would you have us deliver?”
I leapt to my feet, scooping up the clothes, while gibbering idiotically-
“Yes! I will…Thank you. .he said you... thank you.. said you would.. he said..”
I set off, first forwards, then back again, a little run, a couple of skips, wanting to stay and explain, and at the same time wanting to run as fast as I could to get back to the south road, to tell Jesus of my little miracle, and to where a greater one was waiting to happen.
When I got back to where I had left Jesus, in spite of it being well towards noon, when most people would normally be thinking of going home to prepare food, fuel, clothing and all else necessary for the Sabbath, the crowd had more that doubled. As I approached, I was puzzled to see that they all appeared to be sitting down, most in a circle, tight, but still leaving a wary distance between them and Jesus, who was still nursing the leper, and a few others sitting in the shade of a nearby tree. As I drew closer, I realised that all were sitting because Jesus was speaking to them. I picked my way through the crowd, and sat by his side, close by him.
It was not an act of bravery or faith- rather the opposite. I was quite aware that my action could lead me to the living death of the leper colony, but on seeing Jesus sitting there, and hearing him speak so comfortingly, when faced with the choice of either joining him or sitting with the crowd, I did not have the courage, the ability to set myself apart from him.
He had looked up at me as I approached, but did not interrupt himself in his words or his action. The leper was sitting upright, now. Jesus’ hands were moving slowly across the man’s cheeks, back and forth, up and down, while the leper’s own hands were held loosely over the backs of Jesus’ hands.
It was then that I noticed with considerable shock that the leper’s eyes were clear because the growths about his face and head were considerably reduced, as were those on his hands. Of the inflammation of the eyes, ears and nostrils, there was now no visible trace. I had to tear my eyes away to concentrate on Jesus’ words-
“Your Father made heaven and earth, and all things in them. Scripture tells us this, and you believe it. Why then can you not see how far his power extends? If he made all things, he must also have power over all things; the land, seas, flora, fauna, wind, rain, light, men, your enemies. Enemies from foreign lands, in your own land, in your own heart. Selfishness, greed, lust- for power, for flesh, for gold. If God made all these things, which would destroy your happiness as this leprosy would destroy your bodies, is it not more sensible to seek help from God, rather than hide from him? You are his children and he loves you. Do not fear him. Trust him; seek him; ask his help, his forgiveness.
How many of you are fathers? Would you stand by and watch your children scamper off, in ignorance, to their destruction? No. You would not hesitate to use rod and lash to bar their way to damnation. When they accused you of using them cruelly, you could only say ‘it is because I love you’, and you would be sorrowful at their lack of understanding of the torrent of love inside you.
So you must consider and know your heavenly Father in the same way. Do not presume to understand his wisdom. Think only to trust in it. Do not question his love. Find confidence in it, and so learn to love him in return. Do not make him your last -and so very often too late- resort in fighting the works of evil, which threaten to destroy you. Make him the mainstay of your life.
Listen to this story-
A rich landowner had two sons, and when they were of an age to work, their father gave to each of them a field, and said-
“I will give you letters of credit to buy from the merchants whatever seeds you need, food for the soil, implements to care for your crops, and I will visit you again at harvest time. By the fruits of your harvest, I will judge your labours, and so decide where in my estates you will each work and dwell”.
The first son bought plough, harrow and hoe. He fed the soil with manure and compost. He planted vines and currant bushes, barley and cucumbers, a patch of mustard seed, and young fig trees. In one corner he built a bee hive, in another he penned fowl, in yet another he tethered a goat.
The second son laughed at his brother’s efforts and said-
“Why work all day? I will redeem the letters of credit, and invest the money at interest. Let others work, while I enjoy myself”. So he put out his money to poor farmers and labourers who paid him extortionate interest, so he could soon live a life of excessive self-indulgence.
At harvest time, the father called his sons to show him the results of their endeavours. The two brothers appeared much changed. The first son was dressed in rude leather apron, coarse linen shirt, and worn-out sandals on his feet, with no covering to his head. His arms, legs and face were burned brown by wind, sun and rain. His nails were broken, his hands rough and calloused, hair unruly, and beard untrimmed.
The second son was dressed in fine clothes; his skin was delicate and smooth, his hair perfumed, and he sported much gold and silver ornament about his arms, neck and waist. He laughed at the coarse appearance of his brother, who apologised to his father, saying-
“For fear of thieves I have lived here in my field, sleeping under the hedge, and washing in the irrigation channel”.
“Never mind your appearance. I am here to see your harvest” replied his father.
The first son had set up a table dressed with vine leaves and sprays of wild flowers from his hedges. He bade his father sit, and set before him grapes, figs, vegetables, honey, goat’s milk and cheese, and barley bread, and bade his father eat.
“You give very freely of that which cost you nothing” said the father.
“Father, I have paid a little, at least. The honey cost me bee stings, the milk cost me kicks and butts, the fruits cost me wet nights of rain, and the barley cost me blisters from the plough”.
“Do you resent this payment?”
“No, father! The little I have contributed is little because I am capable of little. You gave me the opportunity, but the fact that the giving of it was perhaps a small thing does not make the opportunity small, but the earth has given all this, and having given so much is left with no less than it had before”.
“And is this so especial, this small collection of green things torn from trees”.
“Father, this is the whole of life! This is one stage in a perfect cycle of rest and labour, conception and fruition, investment and reward, hope and fulfilment..”
“Enough” said the father, then turning to the second son, he said-
“Show me your harvest”.
The second son led them to a handcart within the gate to his field. On the cart were several strongboxes, one of which he opened and tipped forwards, sending a cascade of copper, silver and gold coins showering over the edge of the cart and down around their feet.
“Here is my harvest! The sun and wind will not wither this! It will not spoil with keeping. It will not tear my hands or burn my neck”
“But what of this?” asked the father, indicating the neglected field. There were thorns and brambles, nettles and tares, parched sandy soil, rocks with scorpions and adders beneath them.
“I gave you charge of a field, and you have made it into a wilderness, a place of evil and desolation; a barren place fit only for jackals, vipers and ghosts. Since you prize a life of slothfulness, go to the marshy place where my swine are kept. You shall watch over them for the rest of your life, consorting only with foreigners. You shall lie at your ease in the mud and filth with only brutish, unclean animals for company”.
Then he turned to the first son and said-
“I gave you soil and you turned it into bread. I gave you money and you turned it into milk and honey. I gave you labour and you turned it into love. You shall work in my vineyards and you shall live in my mansion. You will labour for me, and you will find your reward as much in the labour as in the harvest”.