Persecutors of the First Dance

I saw Jesus last night.

He was walking onto the dance floor of a reception hall, leading his new bride behind him. The song started  and they held each other, rocking slowly back and forth. At one of the tables sat the bride’s old friends, getting high and drunk. The tender song was punctuated by the mocking and jeering of these most ungracious guests. I looked back at Jesus. There is no way that he didn’t hear the laughter, but his face didn’t register the slightest bit of offense or disappointment. His eyes never left those of his young bride. So dedicated was he in that moment that it was obvious nothing could have mattered to him as much as that dance did.

I saw Jesus, and he was being mocked by his persecutors

Singing in Tongues

I saw Jesus just last night.

He was on the subway telling strangers of his life. And as they laughed at his comical singing, his wizened face told of the wisdom that was lost in his broken english.

I saw Jesus, and he was telling parables.

Bus Stop Parables

I saw Jesus earlier today.

He was sitting across the street from me as I waited for the bus. His tattered clothing seemed unfitting for such fierce eyes, but as he stood up from his pile of mattresses, his body betrayed a weakness. It took a while for him to balance himself on his solitary crutch before he was able to build up a slow limp down the sidewalk. I busied myself watching passersby and found none of the same fire in the eyes of everyone else.

As I watched I saw him again, coming off the crosswalk down the street. There were people milling about and walking past, but his eyes penetrated the crowd and met me. He could only walk slowly, and with great effort. His legs were stiff and stilt-like, but he never took his eyes off my face as he was walking. He was on my side of the road, but a long ways away and I casually wondered why he happened to be approaching. Was he actually walking all this way to get to me? If he just wanted to beg, why wouldn’t he talk to any of the other people nearby… almost all of whom looked richer than I?

After I waited for a while, the streetcar came and I jumped inside. Hearing a noise behind me, I turned around to see him hobbling up to the door. I could tell by his expression that he wanted to tell me something. As he opened his mouth, the streetcar door closed in his face. “Hey, wait!” I said to the driver, “there is still someone else.” The bus driver started to drive away. “Bus driver!” I shouted, “Open the door!” The bus driver ignored me and kept going. I looked back and found Jesus standing in the middle of the street, staring through the window, his eyes still trying to tell me something. What was Jesus going to tell me?

I saw Jesus, and he was telling parables.