It was another hot, dusty, day by the roadside. Traffic to and from Jericho was as usual. The beggar took his usual place.
Over the years he'd identified just the right spot. It allowed him hear the approach of wheels rolling along the hard ruts of the highway and the cadence of footfalls. The former was usually warning to push further away from the road. Some of the Roman charioteers were sadists -- they used horse whips indiscriminately, without provocation.
The latter was more welcome. It held the promise of coins.
You could tell a lot about a person from their footfalls. The poor were always in a hurry. The rich walked in a measured way, like they were calculating how to increase their wealth. The priests were even slower, privately he believed they were looking for who to catch breaking the law. The indigent either walked with a shuffle or dragged themselves along.
He preferred those measured steps. It was difficult to predict how any episode might go but it held more prospects than asking alms of a priest.
Adopting his favourite position, the son of Timaeus, waited for footfalls.
When they came, they did not fall into any category. First, there were too many...that only happened during feats and celebrations. And then they were travelling to and from Jericho. Plus, they were all of the of the described and then some,
Eventually, he learnt what was going on -- Jesus was passing by.
He'd heard of Him -- that He could do anything.
He pushed closer to the road. This son of David was going to get help from that Son of David.
Post a Comment