Visitors
My legs ached, a feeling I was entirely unfamiliar with. The same of course could be said of any bodily feeling, for I was unfamiliar with the body itself. It struck me as odd that my legs should cry so loudly against the very thing they were made to do. For a while I bore it and continued walking under the rising sun. Yet as the sun grew higher, I soon became aware of another misery: a deep burning sensation on my uncovered neck. Early in the day the light had been a comfort, yet as it grew brighter it became altogether too intense. My very skin began to weep from the pain, sending glistening tears trickling down my arms. The sensation was relieved at last as we passed under a terebinth growing beside the road. Relief washed over me under those branches—another new feeling, though it held a familiar resemblance to feelings I had known before.
"Let us rest a moment," said my leading companion.
The three of us sat down on the dry earth, backs against the tree, and immediately fresh vigor flooded my legs. Following the example of the other two, I removed a waterskin from where it was tied around my waist and drank. Upon tasting the water I nearly laughed out loud, and a bright smile spread across my face. How could this simple, tasteless pleasure flow with such freshness? Surely this water was life itself! I drank again, and we rested. Then at length cooled, strengthened, and delighted, we stood again to resume our journey.
Oh but journey. Such frustration! How was it that we were never suddenly wherever we wished? Why must travel demand such time and labor? This perhaps was the worst of the lot. The body, for all its pleasures, was such a constraining vessel. The road helped, for it was easy to walk and kept us from losing our way, but the time seemed very long.
At last, ahead of us, past the crest of a rocky hill rose a thin twisting column of smoke. Not our final destination, I knew, for it must be more camp than city. It seemed we intended to visit nevertheless. As we drew near and came over the hill, a curious sight struck my eyes. A grove of many trees, each like the one that had sheltered us earlier, and spread between the trees many thick, dark tents. A vague stench caught my nose, the warm musk of sweating livestock. Goats and donkeys mostly, lying about the camp in whatever shade they could find. More animals than men. Yet one little man, sitting at the door of the nearest tent, soon caught sight of us. He rose with a start, letting out a little cry, tidying himself quickly, and rushed towards us. He bowed low to the earth before us and said, “O Lord, if I have found favor in your sight, do not pass by your servant. Let a little water be brought, and wash your feet, and rest yourselves under the tree, while I bring a morsel of bread, that you may refresh yourselves, and after that you may pass on—since you have come to your servant.”
“Do as you have said,” my leading companion replied, and the three of us proceeded toward the tree which the man had signaled.
My eyes followed the little man as he began to scurry about. Not only small, he was old. If today seemed long to me, this man must have lived through many, many such days. The scorching of his skin and the walking of his legs had worn him. Thicker without, thinner within. Yet he hurried about seemingly unbothered, in evident familiarity with the pain which troubled me so. I felt compassion for him then, realizing he had never known any different. As for me, I wasn't sure I could work so busily were I in his place. I remembered the recent discomfort of our journey, the ceaseless song of an ever-dying body. My compassion began to turn to something like wonder at the man's effortless endurance.
By and by he brought us bread. It was fortunate we were seated near the tree, for the very aroma would have knocked me over with longing. And then the taste! I cannot explain it well, but I will try, for as I tasted I began to understand this world. Imagine standing in the temple of the Most High, surrounded by myriads of others. Imagine how He fills us there. Imagine the strength He supplies and the delight He delivers. Imagine how He makes Himself all our attention, not by force but by the sheer beauty of His being. These feelings I have long struggled to describe. We all know them, but we have not the words. Yet as I tasted, I understood: bread is a word! A word that describes what He is like. And oh! How I never knew I was hungry until I ate.
Upon finishing the bread, I had water again and leaned back against the tree. Shaded, cooled, and filled. Happy, but longing now to be home again. To rest in true shade, drink of true water, and taste of true bread. I found it harder than ever to remain. Thankfully the assignment would not be long.