Yes, my name is Caleb the Camel. I belong to David bar Benjamin, the master who decided not to follow Jesus in the story that Deacon Jan just read. Before I tell my version of the story, I need to set the record straight on one thing. Those preachers who claim that the “Eye of the Needle” is the name of a gate in Jerusalem are just plain wrong. I've been in and out of all those gates, and there is no gate by that name. Therefore, on behalf of camels everywhere, I object to Jesus’ exaggerated remark about shoving us through a tiny needle hole. This ridiculous image is an affront to our dignity. Plus, it sounds very painful.
I am rather flattered that Jesus noticed me, though. I was right there when my master ran up to Jesus, so I saw the whole thing. We had been out inspecting one of my master’s properties earlier that week. My master has lots of properties—5 estates, I think, spread out all over the region. My brothers and I haul piles of sweet dates, and wine, and grain, and olives for him all over the Galilee. But we don’t mind. Master David feeds us well. He’s not like his father Benjamin.
Benjamin was a greedy man. He always had his eye out for getting something for nothing. Whenever a poor farmer couldn’t pay his taxes, Benjamin was right there to buy up his land for almost nothing. Whenever there was a drought, or a farmer got sick, Benjamin was right there, too, promising a few sheckles for the poor guy’s home. Benjamin never forgave anyone’s debt. That’s how the family got so much property. Then, to top it off, Benjamin would underpay his workers. He wouldn’t even let widows and orphans collect the few stalks of grain that the harvesters had dropped on the edges of his fields. Can you imagine?! He was clearly breaking God’s Law. Don’t tell anyone, but I used to spit on him whenever his back was turned. Camels are accurate spitters, too!
My master David, he’s different. He was always a good little boy, slipping me a sweet date from his pocket when no one was looking. He was always trying to please his exacting father by doing everything just right: going with him to collect and count the tenants' rent; watching in silence as his father shouted insults to the beggars and foreigners at the gate. David spent hours in the synagogue studying scripture. He thinks God is like his father Benjamin, full of rules and punishments. He’s determined to earn God’s love, but his prayers never seem to make him happy.
I really felt sorry for him when his father matched him up with that grumbler Leah, just because she came with a huge dowry. His wife has been a thorn in David’s side his whole adult life. She’s always spending money, always putting him down for going to the synagogue. She’s never satisfied with what he provides for her. And now he’s got three daughters to provide for, too, and no sons. Still, nobody understands why he looks so sad and stressed all the time.
“He’s the richest guy in town,” they scoff. “He can have anything he wants. He’s got no worries.” But they don’t know the half of it.
You should have seen the look on David’s face when that leper came running into town, shouting to everyone that the Messiah had come and healed him of his horrible disease. It was the first time in years that I’ve seen David’s eyes light up with hope. He became obsessed with finding this Jesus from Nazareth, and we spent days on the road looking. When we finally found him, David leapt off my back before I could kneel all the way down. I couldn’t see what he was so excited about. There was just a young guy in a dusty robe on the side the road, surrounded by a bunch of bearded men who smelled like fish. But David, he ran down the road after this guy and kneeled down before him like this teacher was some kind of king. All I could think was that David’s wife was going to yell at him for getting his fancy cloak dusty.
This Jesus really seemed to understand my master, though. Now, anybody could see that my master was desperate, and that he was rich. But Jesus seemed to see beyond that, right into his soul. Jesus knew that David was there to be healed, that his heart was just as scarred as the skin of that leper had been. Jesus was somehow both hard and compassionate at the same time—truthful, you know? He wouldn’t let my master get away with any of that rule-following, goodie-two-shoes nonsense that he had been living by. “No one is good but God alone,” Jesus warned. Jesus even seemed to know about David’s father Benjamin—how he made a fortune off of the backs of the poor and the weak. “You shall not defraud,” Jesus added to his list of ways to live. Coveting isn’t just wanting something, you know. Wanting and taking go together, when you’re the one in power! My master’s whole inheritance—his very being--is woven through with old Benjamin’s covetous defrauding, that’s for sure. I even heard a scornful chuckle escape from the mouth of one of the tenant farmers standing nearby when Jesus pointed that out.
It was hard for me to watch the hope in my master’s eyes die out as Jesus spoke. How could he sell everything and give the money to the poor and then head off down the road with these fishermen? What about his obligations, his lands, his inheritance, his wife, his daughters who needed him? Who would take care of me and all the other animals? It would be like my master had died—died to his family, died to his dreams, traded in his whole life for a new one. Didn’t Jesus understand that? And then that unpleasant remark about it being easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter God’s Kingdom. Ouch. Even the beggars standing around were shocked to hear that. If the well-dressed, educated classes weren’t accepted …. then who was?
It’s cool to be here with you all today, more than two thousand years later. Wow. I’m going to need to be getting back to Palestine soon. I’m not sure I like climbing all these mountains around here … and those metal camels you ride in over there don’t look like much fun to hang out with. It’s great to talk with you, though. Your place here looks pretty nice. And I can tell you’re good, kind, friendly people, just like my master David was. I can’t help but wonder … Your website says that you know this Jesus, that you follow him. How were you strong enough to do what my master couldn’t? Did you feel the weight of Jesus’ eyes on you, those truthful eyes that pierce right into your soul? You must have seen the pleading, powerful love in those eyes. What part of your inheritance did you give up? What did you have to unlearn about yourself, about your community, to go all in for God’s Kingdom? I hear there’s a lot of need in the world these days. It’s sure good to hear that Jesus is still out here, still healing folks.
Before I go, let me tell you a secret: My master came back. Yep. He sold his lands and started one of the earliest Christian communities. My master David stood with Jesus ‘til the end, even died in a Roman prison for his faith. He never turned away again, no matter what. Yes indeed, with God, all things are possible. All things are possible.
No comments:
Post a Comment