White False Messiahs and Other Disappointments

1. Auflage 2016
ISBN: 978-1-4835-6109-7
Verlag: BookBaby
Format: EPUB
Kopierschutz: Adobe DRM (»Systemvoraussetzungen)

E-Book, Englisch, 174 Seiten

An anthology of parables and short stories about illusions lost, loves forsaken, and friendships found.

Autoren/Hrsg.

White, Harry

Leseproben

EPISODES IN THE LIFE OF THEIR SAVIOR The Nativity The wise men are coming. They will be here soon, and if they are pleased with the child I will know that I did what was required of me. It shall be a sign that all will be as promised. I do not know why it had to happen this way. They were clearly different. The one dark-haired and restless. The other with a puffy face and no hair at all, and he never cried. Not once did he cry. They’re here now, the men from the east, seeking, they say, the Light of the World, the King of the Jews. I can hear the camels stomp and snort in the dark winter air. Their hooves feel how soft and cold the ground is, and they are nervous to leave this place. The child struggles in my arms. Hush. Hush little one. Keep still and it will soon be all right. His hair appears lighter now as the light of their lanterns draws near. The Trial When he appeared, a stranger before them, and said, “Come, follow me, for I am the Way, the Truth, and the Life,” they threw away their nets, abandoned their accounts, and they followed. Immediately, we are told. They followed him immediately! Only later did they think to question him, but he responded in parables that they did not understand, and he rebuked them for not understanding. But they had already given up all that they had; so they continued to follow. Pontius Pilate was a man of a different sort. At times a bit abrupt, but in all events a man of discernment, shrewd and skeptical even to a fault, but a perceptive man nevertheless. And he put a question to this other man. Put it clearly, simply, precisely: “What is truth?” Of course, one cannot imagine that a worldly-wise governor, such as Pilate, cared to know what was on the mind of some carpenter from the colony of Judea. It was rather the appropriate directness of the question that was so stunning. What was this man who said he was the truth going to say now? For obviously, a man who claims to be the way and the truth, such a man either knows the truth or he does not. And if he does not know the truth he must confess for all to hear: “I am not all that sure.” But then, who would follow him? If, on the other hand, a man knows the truth, then he must announce it for all to hear. But then, once the truth has been revealed, who would follow him? When people are possessed of the truth, they tend not to move about very much. So Pilate asked his question, and, we are told, he left--immediately! The Crucifixion The trial was a hastily put together affair followed by a sham reprieve. The Romans have become experts in these shenanigans. Of course they knew the shout would go up from the rabble to give them Barabbas. As if on cue, the centurions hustled the two men off the platform, the one to go free, the other to die. Worried about the crowds, they sought to end it all quickly, hurrying him along with furious whiplashes, keeping the faithful at a good distance as he limped, hair matted on a bloody face, in the shadow of the cross that weighed his body down. They held us back at the foot of the hill. We heard the pounding nails and the screams which were not those of a man. Only after he had been raised high up on the cross did they let us up the hill. He stared at us so horribly misshapen and disfigured, his features twisted in agony. “Help me, help me!” he groaned. “For God’s sake, help me. I am Barabbas!” The soldiers only laughed. “A man,” they declared, “will say anything to free himself from the grip of the cross.” Indeed the man pleaded with every last breath he could muster, “Please, for the love of God, help me” he cried. “They do not know what they are doing.” Just then, one of the centurions reached up and pushed his sword deep into the man’s side so that he collapsed on the cross without another word. “Consumatum est,” the Roman said, wiping the blood from his sword. The onlookers were stunned, staring up at the cross and at each other, not knowing what to say or do or what to make of what was happening. The centurion repeated himself, “It is finished!” he shouted. “Nothing more is going to come of any of this. Now go home. We had our orders, and it’s over with. Go home.” Following the Sabbath day, Mary Magdalene and the other Mary went to the tomb looking for the body of Jesus who had been crucified. But they did not find him there. To this day, we are told either that the body was stolen or that a man named Joseph travelled from Arimathea, and he received permission from Pontius Pilate to take the body from the tomb, although it is not at all clear why anyone would want to steal the body of a man who died without possessions or why the Governor of Judea would agree to have the remains of someone the Romans executed removed from its place of entombment. The two Mary’s did later tell of speaking with Jesus on the road to Galilee after they discovered the empty tomb, and his disciples also said that they met with him later in Galilee. As for Barabbas, he was never seen again, either dead or alive! Bearing Witness Even when the miracles occurred, I was unimpressed. Not that as a young man I was in those days any more skeptical than I am now. Only a little less bitter. For you see I am not at heart a sufficiently skeptical or doubting person. I believe in miracles. I do not brush others aside when, breathless and eager, they come running to tell me of this marvel or that wonder. It’s just that I expect more than miracles. I’m stubborn about these things, even more so, I realize, than when I was young. And in the end it’s my stubbornness that wins out and I am left waiting. Now let’s make things perfectly clear: walking on water is nothing to sneeze at. Rising from the dead is an even greater accomplishment--I should be so lucky when my time comes. So I will grant that such a man deserves the time of day, to say the least. But what more? Old Hezekiah comes through here once, maybe twice a year. He swallows fire, then he will make his heart stop. Thus does he gather the wide eyes of the children and the gaping mouth of the fish woman, and for all this he requests only a few shekels and some applause. Who believes that because a man swallows fire that wisdom will then pour from his mouth like honey? Who follows Hezekiah? And what if Rabbi Eliud were alive today? Indeed, what if he came tomorrow to speak to our villagers? What would the people of today say to a man like Eliud? “True enough, much that you say is as we understand wisdom to be. But tell us rabbi, can you walk on water?” You see, it’s really quite simple. I loved Eliud as I have no other man, but, of course, I never followed him. Why should I? Would he remember something he forgot to tell me once we got to Jerusalem--a man with his memory? Would wisdom be any different once we got there?” So I never followed him. And of course Rabbi Eliud never taught any man that it would be right for him to do so. For you must believe me when I say that there used to be men who knew how to lead without asking to be followed. Moses was such a man, one sent by God to deliver men, not miracles. Accordingly he showed signs and wonders to the Egyptians and saved wisdom for those of us who wished to be free--and to remain free! When Pharaoh asked, quite pointedly I think, “Who is the Lord that I should obey Him?” Moses responded, also quite to the point, by turning rivers into blood and bringing frogs upon the land of Egypt. Yet when Israel, still a young nation, ignorant in its ways, heard that the Egyptian priests had duplicated the very miracles that the Lord Himself instructed Moses to perform, and when it collectively raised its worried voice to him, saying, “Who now do you say is the Lord that we should follow Him?” Moses responded quite to the point and said, “If it’s miracles you yearn for, you may just as well remain slaves in Egypt. We are not going to trek through the desert in search of miracles.” Later on, it became a common refrain during the Israelites’ wandering through the desert whenever someone would ask for a miracle or just an invigorating little sign to spur him on: “What’s the matter,” people would say, “were there not frogs and blood enough in Egypt?” And now that I remember, and it’s a good thing that I do, there is a story of a truly miraculous feat performed in the desert in the months shortly after our liberation. It was initiated by Aaron, a more obliging sort than his brother, who did several times walk upon water to the wonderment of all those who witnessed his powers. Then seeing the love and trust that the people had come to have in him, Aaron took it upon himself to summon the nation together by the bank of a wide river, strode out into its midst, and turning, stood erect on top of the waves and called to Israel: “Have faith. Follow me.” And then the entire nation of Israel, not just one timid apostle, but the entire nation walked upon water, following Aaron, dry but for the soles of their feet. Only Moses remained on land where he called to his brother, “Aaron, my brother, well done! But are you sure that is the way to the Promised Land?” “Disappointed, all the children of Israel began swimming back to shore. Many were so weighed down by their...