The Rich Young Ruler

"The Rich Young Ruler" It is the first time I can remember traveling a distance without at least two or three servants, and although I never considered their presence confining, I now realized how little time I had ever spent in solitude. I remembered Jesus saying how hard it was for a rich man to enter the kingdom of heaven. Perhaps solitude is a good thing - and a rich man has little time for solitude. I have had little else for the past two days. My meditations have been anguishing. There was a connection between Jesus’ words to me - “One thing you still lack; sell all that you possess and distribute it to the poor, and you shall have treasure in heaven; and come, follow Me” - and my raging anger over my Father’s welcome of my brother. I have come to no resolution of these seemingly unconnected events, and it continues to haunt me. One thing I know, I cannot go on as before. I can no longer believe that life is predestined according to your birthright and family position. There is something beyond tradition, honor, and duty. Even my sorry brother Caleb must have understood that. I have not forgiven him - or my Father. The anger begins to overtake the hope that had spurred me on this quest for truth. "The Leper" The glory of the early Fall morning is a cruel irony. The ugliness of my body, deformed as it is with leprosy, is but magnified by the beauty of the day. The sun’s rising light defines the symmetry and the perfect blending of texture and color in the countryside. Even the sweet decaying smells of the soil are in perfect harmony with the fading colors of the trees. The day’s glory is complete with the music of the birds, a symphony of sound now with the mockingbird’s solo accentuated by the cymbalic honks of the geese on the lake. How frivolous, how random, how sad it all seems. The beautiful and the ugly side by side, created by the whimsy of uncaring nature, and if there is one, an uncaring God. "Christmas with Joseph" The pains are coming regularly now, but Mary remains calm even as she begins to really labor. After about an hour, the water breaks, and baby Jesus comes. I receive him, this bewildering, amazing gift of God. Wiping the blood and afterbirth away I behold a wrinkled, tiny baby boy, crying vigorously, and wondering if he can be anyone other than just my boy. Mary, glowing with relief and love receives Jesus and tenderly enfolds him to her bosom. Jesus and Mary are quiet and at peace together. So am I. Mary reaches out to me and enfolds me also to her bosom. The three of us are as one. After a while I take Jesus from his now sleeping Mother, and hold him in my lap. As I gaze down at the sleeping baby Jesus, I am startled by a new thought. I am to be this child's Fa-ther! I realize that during the pregnancy I had been so occupied with the enormity of the concep-tion and the meaning of all this that I had not thought about actually being a Father to this baby. How does one be a Father to the Son of God. For the first time this glorious night, I am afraid. I am really afraid. I pray for the angel to return and tell me to fear not! To tell me how to be a Fa-ther to the Son of God. The angel does not come. I sink into the depths of this enormous tidal wave that has engulfed my life. Jesus stirs and whimpers. I begin to think of his needs, not mine. This is time for a lullaby.