Feast for the Dogs
"Are you one of them?" I asked the stranger.
He didn't give an immediate answer. He came closer and asked, "Of who do you speak?"
"Well, friend, your accent gives you away, and you are dressed like them. I just made the assumption that you were in league with that party of wanderers who passed through just a short while ago. If it is not so, sit down, kick the dust off your sandals. The people of this village can be quite hospitable to newcomers when we are of the same mind."
"Who were these wanderers?" the stranger said as he took a seat beside me on the stone wall.
"Just a bunch of righteous fools. You know how they think they are so much better than us. You know, I heard that in a local town, one of them had a long talk with a woman who is of questionable morals... even by my standards."
"A woman?" the stranger asked.
"You got it, a woman. Heard she's had herself three maybe four husbands. I wonder, just between you and me, if any of those men were husbands at all. Sounds kind of dark and seedy, don't cha think? Kinda makes you understand why we don't want their kind here. Especially if they would spend time in conversation with one who they certainly see as unclean."
"So they left this village... without seeking shelter?" the stranger asked.
"Of course," I replied, wondering if the stranger was a bit dense.
"Where would they stay, if not here?" the stranger queried, before adding, "there are not many other towns or villages nearby."
"You know," I comment with a repulsive air, "if they really were the righteous ones among their sect, they wouldn't have even asked for lodging in a place like this. Our kind are dirty, filthy, defiled. But you know how it is. They're lukewarm in their beliefs and traditions. How many of them paint their door posts with lamb's blood, and let a hungry person starve rather than offer a piece of the sacrifice to quench the hunger of a dying man."
"But this group of wanderers," the stranger continued, "perhaps they were different, not quite righteous in the eyes of those who consider themselves as such. I agree, there are many of them, self-righteous, lukewarm as you say. Still, they might not be drifters looking to cause havoc of any sort. I have heard of a group..."
"Zealots," I interrupted, harshly. "The Romans love tormenting Zealots, and why should we bring the Romans down on us. I understand that two of them spoke of destroying our village with fire. A handful of men against a whole town, how stupid. As I said, the Romans will have some target practice with these fools."
"I don't believe they're Zealots," the stranger replied. "From what I've heard, the one they call teacher, speaks of peace. Any war, or division, in his words, will come between family, or the inner self. But I have only heard bits and pieces. I did hear that he touched a leper."
"A leper," I shot back. "That is plain foolishness."
The stranger shrugged his shoulders and said, "Perhaps not. I've heard things. If true, the stories are amazing. They may be exaggerated, but still..."
"Made up stories... that's all," I responded.
"I'm not so sure," the stranger said as he rose from where we were seated.
"Then you are one of them," I said with conviction. "Here I invited you to rest and shake the dust from your feet... and you are one of them. You must consider yourself to be the chosen, while we are the outcasts, the unclean dogs in your sight."
The stranger began walking away. Suddenly he stopped and turning back said, "Friend, from what I have heard... and read, the chosen will reject what they have been selected to do. The righteous will deem themselves too good, too knowledgeable of the law. Those who shook the dust from their feet as they left your streets, and moved on, are not scribes or temple priests. They are fishermen and tax collectors, following in the footsteps of a carpenter. That, on which the chosen refuse, the dogs will feast. Friend, you should have asked them to sit and rest. You should have asked them to shake the dust from their sandals while in your company. If you knew, you would have offered them bread and your best wine. As it is, you have cursed them, and in doing so missed the moment God had planned for you."
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