Here’s a little piece from the new book I’m working on, a collection of parables. It has a few twists and turns, so hang on!
Christ in the House of Mary & Martha, by Johannes Vermeer
I like to imagine the kind of conversations Jesus might have had with Mary, Martha, and Lazarus, relaxing at their home in Bethany. I picture the Lord telling His friends some of the same stories we read in the gospels, but different versions of them, from the inside track.
Take the man He healed of leprosy in Luke 5, instructing him not to tell anyone about it. Reading this I think, Good luck.
“Yeah,” Jesus tells Lazarus, “that guy blabbed it all over. I knew he would. But if I’d told him to go out and spread the news, he would have clammed right up. Some people are like that. They do just the opposite of what you say.”
“But didn’t he cause you a lot of trouble, that guy?” says Lazarus.
At that, Jesus breaks into a kind of rueful laugh. “Oh yeah, tell me about it. In that whole area I can’t go around in public anymore. But what can you do? That’s life.”
“Yeah,” says Lazarus, “life is what it is. Another glass of wine?”
“No, I’ve had enough. Any more,” Jesus chuckles, “and the power would go out of me. Actually, that happened to me earlier today. I was walking along in a crowd when suddenly—BAM!—I felt completely drained. I knew someone had touched me and been healed. Why hadn’t they at least asked me? I stopped, and looking all around, I said, ‘Who touched me?’ At first no one would own up. But finally a woman came forward and told her story. Such a dear soul! As soon as I looked into her eyes, the power came back into me. Oh, how I needed that! I needed to meet her face to face. People just want me to heal them, but what I want to give them is love.”
For a long time the two of them are silent. Then Mary enters the room and sits at Jesus’ feet, and He tells her a story.
A boy came to his father with a troubled face. In trembling hands he held his report card.
“Dad,” he said, “I have some bad news.”
“Yes, son, what is it?”
“Well, I only got one out of ten on my Religious Studies exam.”
The father regarded his son calmly. Maybe, thought the boy, the old man hadn’t heard properly?
“Dad,” he repeated, hanging his head. “I failed the course.”
The boy handed the devastating report card to his father, and slowly the father studied it.
Then, looking back at the boy, he said, “Son, you must not have read this report very carefully. True, you got only one out of ten. But it says right here that the one you got right is the most important one of all. In fact, it’s the only one that counts.
“Good work, son. You’re at the top of the class.”
Mary laughs at the story. “I love that,” she says. “And I think I know what the one thing that matters is.”
Then her face darkens as she says, “But Lord, don’t you hear how much noise my sister is making in the kitchen? I can hardly hear you! Won’t you please tell Martha to keep it down? She should be in here too, listening to you.”
“Mary, Mary,” says Jesus, “you’re working yourself up into a state over nothing. If you’re going to focus on just one thing, you have to let everything else go. Besides, Martha is busy making a good dinner that I’m looking forward to.
“Which reminds me,” Jesus continues, “the other day I was with a crowd of 5000 in a remote place. I said to Philip, ’How are we going to feed all these people?’
“‘Search me,” said Philip. ‘There are no stores nearby, and even if there were, it would cost a fortune!’
“Then Andrew spoke up. ‘Here is a boy who’s willing to share. His lunch box has a can of Pringle’s chips and two Mars bars.’
‘Great,’ I said. ‘Have the people sit down.’
“Then, taking the chips and chocolate bars, I looked up to heaven, about to bless them. But you know, I just couldn’t do it.
“Looking down, I told Andrew, ‘On second thought, maybe just bring me some stones.’”
