The Respected Scribe
He looked up into the night sky from his perch outside the temple. He was a scribe. One who studied. One who knew. The star to the south seemed to take a dominant place in the night sky. Perhaps he'd seen this star before, but he thought not.
"Jeremiah," he said to the young boy, who had followed him out to the wall, hoping to be of service to his master.
"Here I am," Jeremiah replied, standing before the respected scribe.
"Look to the south," the scribe pointed, a long thin finger, toward the star, just in case the boy was unsure of direction. "Do you see that star?"
"I do."
"Do you think there is some meaning tied to its appearance?"
Jeremiah was unsure how to answer. He knew little. His master knew much. "I seldom look at the stars," Jeremiah offered in response.
The scribe smiled. He was a decent man, and he cared deeply for the young boy who served him. "Of course you do not study the stars. There are those who do, wise men."
"Do you study the stars, master? You are wise."
"Sometimes," the scribe replied. "Scriptures speak of a star in the Torah. It is called Jacob's star. It is believed that a star shall rise to announce a coming ruler, a king."
"Such as Herod?" Jeremiah asked with obvious distaste on his tongue.
"No. This king will be much different. He will not be placed on the throne by some conquering authority. The throne will belong to his lineage. He will be accepted by all the people. We will once again become a great nation."
The scribe grew quiet. Both he and Jeremiah stared out at the dancing star.
"It concerns me though," the scribe spoke into the silence.
"Why is that, master?"
The scribe thought for a moment, before speaking. When he had considered his words with care, he began, "There have been prophets who have tried to point us in the direction of the star, the direction of the one who is to come. I fear it is possible we might not see him for who he is. We might look away, forsake our chance to become what the LORD intends. He might not be what we expect. Perhaps the kingdom promised is not gained by a war."
"But how else would we become a nation again?"
Jeremiah's question was heartfelt. The scribe turned toward him and looked deeply into the brown eyes of a boy becoming a man, and answered his question. "Perhaps it doesn't take war. Maybe it takes something greater. I want you to remember this, Jeremiah. You are like a son to me. I want you to listen to all that is said. I want you to hear the words of men. Ignore those of pompous idiots. Embrace those spoken with the authority that comes from God."
"You mean the Pharisees, or the Sadducees?"
"No, Jeremiah. Do not listen to those who say this, but do that. Listen to one who comes from there." Once again the scribe pointed toward the south, toward the star. "Listen to one who has nothing to gain by your attentive ear. I think it is possible that the star you see out there offers a salvation we will not understand. But you my son, listen, hear, and give all you have to walk in his footsteps."
Comments
Post a Comment