A Parable by Dave Pipitone
"The court is now in session. All rise!"
I sprang to my feet as the magistrate approached his bench and sat down. He called me to the witness stand, and I walked steadily, shakingly forward. How I had come to be at this trial seemed as foggy as the day I had met him. Him. I had actually met him.
Oh, I had heard the stories, sitting there in the dust, begging. My spot was no more than an hour walking distance from Jericho, that famed city where Joshua marched to the sound of trumpets and opened its walls to the Israelites. How often I had hoped to hear trumpets causing that the cataracts covering the walls of my eyelids to come tumbling down.
I had heard the stories about him from the passerbys, those on the trade route from Jericho to Jerusalem. Merchants and wanderers speaking of a man who knew no exceptions. Tales of mercy of a healer, roaming Galilee and now walking through Judea. Breaking the rules of man and the Almighty. Or what we thought we knew of the Almighty.
"What do you have to say for yourself?" the magistrate demanded. "Are you guilty or not? Did you know that man?"
Did I know him? The first story I heard of him was so unreal. He was teaching in a house, the grain merchant said, a house that was full of people. A paralytic, whose limbs were like shrunken reeds, wanted to walk. Not one would budge from his path. The house was full. No more could be admitted. There were no exceptions.
But his friends, ah, what friends, would not accept a 'No!' Clever they were. Resourceful. If they could not go in, they would go down. So they dragged that paralytic to the roof, removed the tiles and lowered the man on a stretcher – right in front of him.
And he saw that paralytic – with a look, the grain merchant said, that made your heart beat with anticipation – with a smile that brought your heart to your throat – with an outstretched hand that set your heart on fire with wonder. That is how he looked at the paralytic man’s friends and at that man. He said something so shocking, 'As for you, your sins are forgiven.'
I heard that there was quite a stir at the words he spoke. Things like, blasphemy – only the Almighty forgives sins – no exceptions. Who gives this man the authority to forgive such sin? And he – he responded with a question of his own – 'What is easier to say – your sins are forgiven or rise and walk?'
The merchant told me there was a confused silence before the teacher spoke again – to the paralyzed man – ‘Rise, pick up your stretcher and go home.’ The paralyzed man got up immediately, picked up the stretcher and walked home. And the now-walking man glorified God as he left, so the merchant told me.
"Yes, I know him," I replied. "I saw him with my own eyes."
My own eyes. I had often wondered if I would ever see again. For years I sat at that dusty roadside, begging for money and food. Very few would ever stop to give me something, most footsteps sauntered by in silence. Oh, how I came to learn about the different sounds of footsteps – some dragging along, others stomping, yet even more walking with quickness to scurry past where I sat begging.
It was the dancing girl who stopped by to hand me a coin and tell me about her mother’s encounter with him. She had been a girl from Canaan who was tormented by a demon just a year earlier.
Her mother sought the teacher and asked for pity. For healing. For a well daughter. His followers told the teacher to send the woman away – she was such a pest. The teacher said nothing. She would not let up. She would not take no for an answer. Finally, the teacher turned toward the woman, her daughter said, and told her that his mission was only to us Jews – the house of Israel.
Her mother appealed to him, asking, 'Lord, help me.' And she told me that he would not make an exception – out of justice – it was not right to take children’s food and give it to the dogs. Her mother- what a mother - did not stop, she said – she told the teacher that even the dogs eat the scraps that from fall from the master’s hands.
The teacher stopped. He smiled and looked at her mother. He praised her for her faith – for her love of her daughter and told her 'Let it be done as you wish.' With tears in her eyes, the dancing girl told me how she was healed at that very hour - a living exception of mercy – when the teacher heard and granted her mother’s request.
"So you do admit that you know him and have seen him," the magistrate stated loudly so everyone in the court could hear. "Our rules are clear. No one is to associate with him. No one. Those who do are to be cut off from this community. No exceptions."
I found my voice and replied. "I so vividly remember the day when he walked by. The news and talk had spread for hours that he was walking toward Jericho. He left the north, the land of Galilee, with his followers. He was coming! Right on the road where I sat day in, day out.
The buzz of voices in the crowd grew louder; the footsteps more hurried. The noise of people running past increased. I strained forward, and leaned on my staff. I cried out, in full voice, like I had never begged before. 'Jesus, Son of David, have pity on me!'Again, even louder, 'Jesus! Son of David! Have pity on me!'
I heard the voices in the crowd telling me to be quiet. That I had no right to call out. Even his followers came to me and asked for silence. That I was interrupting him. That he was on an important journey. Too busy. There were others he needed to see.
Oh, how I wanted to see. So I shouted all the louder: 'SON OF DAVID!! Son of David! Have pity on me, please, please, have pity on me.'
Then, the footsteps were silent. He had stopped. The sound of footsteps of the crowd walking past had halted. And, his followers told me later, he looked at me. With the same look the merchant told me about. A look that made your heart beat with anticipation – with a smile, that brought your heart to your throat – with an outstretched hand that set your heart on fire with wonder.
The voices of his followers changed – they told me that he was calling for me. That he wanted to see me. That he ordered them to bring me to him. And they did that. They helped me get up. I took the arm of the one they called Peter, who brought me before this Jesus, this teacher.
Yes, this Peter told me that as I approached, the teacher gave me this look and a smile. I could not see that look, but my heart beat with anticipation – it felt like my heart leapt into my throat. I felt an outstretched hand on my arm that set my heart on fire with wonder.
Then he spoke the words my eyes had yearned for so long to hear, 'What do you want me to do for you?'
'Lord, please let me see,' I begged. With all my might. That was my life -- I knew how to beg.
So quickly came his reply, with a strong, firm voice, 'Have sight; your faith has saved you.'
And immediately, immediately my eyes were opened. The sunlight was so bright and dazzling. The colors, shapes and sizes of people surrounding me were overwhelming.
It was too much – I wanted to close my eyes – but no, my eyes caught his. He was smiling at me. I have followed him ever since. I praise God for this man and what he has done for me. I am an exception of mercy. When others said no, he did not. That is my testimony."
There was silence in the courtroom when I had finished. No one stirred nor spoke. In a hushed voice, the magistrate said, "An exceptional story. An exception of mercy. Something we all can learn. Case dismissed. You may go your way."
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