[Journey with Jesus – Day 7]
I’m used to rejection. Had it all my life. Well, ever since I was chosen – I was talent spotted as a child – I had an aptitude for facts and figures – I still do, in fact, my memory has always been first rate. I was the quickest to learn and recite parts of the Torah. Knew most of it by the time I was 8. Anyway, someone in the synagogue school had clearly noticed, so a couple of years later, when some of the best of us were chosen to for more education and others set to work, I found myself under the wing of the local tax collector. I worked in his office, mainly counting money and writing down the records of who paid what and who owed what. I was in the background at first, hidden in the shadows so no one knew what I did. My parents insisted that I keep it this way and tell no one what I did. I didn’t understand why. After all, I was being well-paid and the family was being provided for. I was also learning – I became fluent in Greek and learned some Latin. It enabled me to speak with the foreigners – men dressed in their shining armour whose presence was a constant. Again, my parents told me not to breathe a word of who I was speaking with. I thought it was strange, but obeyed them anyway.
When the tax collector died I found myself filling his shoes. The work was easy – I’d been well trained. But it was then I understood why my parents had been so insistent on me staying silent about how I spent my time. That first morning, I opened the hatch and started business for the day and was shocked by hostility that I faced – every single person, from friend and stranger alike, looked at me with anger, and resentment. When I left the booth at the end of the day and made my way home along the thoroughfare, I saw people shaking their heads and could tell they were whispering about me. Suddenly I had no friends. When I went to synagogue, people simply avoided me. There had been talk about a young girl in the village to whom I might be betrothed, but that dried up too. Even my parents were ashamed to be seen with me. They encouraged me to find my own lodgings even though I was still single. I shrugged it off and bought my own house – I could afford it and it meant I wasn’t having to live with the constant tension. But the hostility did get to me – I started leaving for work early in the morning when it was still dark and going back home when the sun was set. I knew the Romans would ensure I would come to no harm as I was valuable to them. I collected their money and they protected me – it seemed like a fair deal.
Over time I got lonely. I longed for love, I longed for freedom, but I could see no way out. My role was a prison, but it was one that I knew. I tried to convince myself that I didn’t care about the sea of hatred that washed towards me, that I was ok with the isolation, but it was gnawing away at me. And then the day came that I encountered hope. The tax booth is on the main street of Capernaum, there because every trader passes through. They have to pay taxes on goods that pass through this area, and I collect these taxes. It’s where the heart of the action is. Although I was never included in gossip, I still picked up what was going on, and I heard about Jesus. His name was associated with some remarkable goings on – a wedding in Cana where water was turned into wine, a man with an unclean spirit who was healed at the synagogue, the healing of the son of a local official I was acquainted with – apparently Jesus had commanded him to be healed and he was that very moment. I heard Jesus speak at the synagogue (I still went, but always arrived late and left early, making sure I stood in the shadows where as few people could see me as possible) and I was amazed by the words he spoke; even more so when he cleansed the man who’d been beset by an unclean spirit. I dealt with the tolls that needed to be paid for an enormous catch of fish that had been brought in by fishermen Peter and Andrew, James and John – Jesus had had a hand in that one apparently! But it was the healing of a leper that really got to me. You see, lepers are outcasts – they are forced to live away from the rest of society, because of their condition. I felt like I was a leper. Shunned, outcast. The only people I spent time with were fellow tax collectors – we felt that we had a leper colony of our very own. But Jesus brought this man healing – he was restored in the community. He told everyone about that one! Could Jesus restore me? I couldn’t see how … I mean, how could someone cure my condition? What hope was there for an outcast like me?
And then I saw him, early in the morning, when I opened up my booth. He was standing there, with a smile on his face. “Hello, Levi,”
“Umm … Rabbi, how can I help you?”
“I’ve seen you lurking in the shadows. You think that no one can see you. But I can. I’ve noticed. I see your hunger and thirst for life to be different. You feel stuck and imprisoned, but you can be free.”
And then he uttered the words that would free me forever. “Follow me.”
On one level I couldn’t believe it. Follow him? Me? Someone who was so universally hated? But before my mouth could protest, my body moved. I found myself getting up, closing the hatch, locking up, leaving the booth and standing next to him. I’d stepped out of the shadows into the blazing sunlight.
“Welcome!” he beamed.
Then, with horror, I thought about Jesus’s other disciples. I was sure they hated me too. How would they react to me joining this group of disciples? “What about the others?” I asked.
“Oh, don’t worry about them. They’ll get used to you soon enough. My disciples come in all shapes and sizes! They do like their food though, particularly the fishermen. The way to their heart is through their stomach! Why not put on a banquet for us this evening?”
I was reeling – it was such an honour to host such a renowned person as Jesus for dinner. I couldn’t remember the last time I had ate in company. “Oh wow, I would absolutely love to – but who should I invite?”
“It’s your choice, but think about people like you – you know, the ones who are never invited to the banquets, who find themselves normally on the outside.”
“I will!” I was thrilled. I felt like a child again. I spent the rest of the day getting ready, sorting out preparations for the food, issuing invitations to all and sundry. When I told them about my guest of honour, I was met with astonishment in some quarters, suspicion in others, but joy and hope in others – especially when they realised that for the first time they were included in this invitation.
When the evening came, my house was bursting full of tax collectors and those who were known to be disreputable characters, as well as Jesus and his disciples. It was really wonderful to see the looks of wonder and gratitude on the faces of these people. The night was full of love and laughter as Jesus spoke about a God of acceptance whose door was open for those who had found it slammed in their faces for much of their lives. But then we heard a kerfuffle, as some local Pharisees and religious scholars came to the door. Peter and Andrew got up to greet them.
“It’s outrageous,” we heard them almost shouting, “How dare he – does he know whose company he is keeping? What is he doing eating and drinking with misfits and ‘sinners’?”
Jesus broke from his conversation and spoke up. “Friends, you are most welcome here – there is plenty of food – isn’t that right, Levi?”
I nodded, and Jesus continued, “What am I doing? Well, consider this. Who needs a doctor: the healthy or the sick? I’m here inviting outsiders, not insiders—an invitation to a changed life, changed inside and out. I’m calling those who know they need God – anyone whose hearts are open to the transformation I can bring.”
Well, they weren’t finished with their examination, so they continued, “Look – we can see that the food and wine is flowing here. Having a great time aren’t you? John’s disciples are well-known for keeping fasts and saying prayers. Also the Pharisees. But you seem to spend most of your time at parties. Why?”
Jesus said, “Ok, so you don’t like the company I keep or the way I choose to spend my time. When you’re celebrating a wedding, you don’t skimp on the cake and wine. You feast. Later you may need to exercise moderation, but this isn’t the time. As long as the bride and groom are with you, you have a good time. When the groom is gone, the fasting can begin. No one throws cold water on a friendly bonfire. This is Kingdom Come! This is the time for feasting and celebration.” And then Jesus’s tone changed a little and he looked sad for a moment, “There will be time for mourning soon enough.”
He seemed to shake himself out of whatever sad thought had crossed his mind, and continued. “Look, God is doing a new thing – bringing fresh understanding, which means God requires a different kind of disciple, someone who is a blank slate on whom a new story can be written. No one cuts up a fine silk scarf to patch old work clothes; you want fabrics that match. And you don’t put wine in old, cracked bottles; you get strong, clean bottles for your fresh vintage wine. And no one who has ever tasted fine aged wine prefers unaged wine.””
The Pharisees were silenced by this and went away muttering. Soon enough, the atmosphere of joy and celebration continued. We had been chosen. He had brought us out of the shadows and we basked in his light.
Halwill Publishing 