Chapter Fifteen
S
o Jesus too, made his way through the press and walked out beside the lake. They all followed him, and he taught them as he walked. And then something caught his eye and he stopped abruptly. A question was asked. Jesus didn’t seem to hear. His eyes focused on a nearby building as if there were something curious about it. Beside the door there was a sign affixed to the wall. It read,
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Office of Tribute
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Caesar Augustus
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Jesus paused for the briefest of moments and then entered the door followed by as many as could squeeze in behind him. Since the office handled the tribute of all of the residents in the region of Galilee, there were about a dozen workers, among them a young Judean accountant whose name was Judas. They all stood in surprise at the intrusion. Except one. He was a man in his mid-thirties, olive-skinned, beard neatly trimmed, wearing expensive clothes, Roman style, his neck draped in a golden chain and rings on several fingers. He was Levi the Jew, the son of Alphaeus also known as Matthew by his friends. Levi had many friends. Oh, I don’t suppose you could really call them friends. Levi traveled, you see. He went from tax office to tax office throughout the general region of Palestine, collecting tribute for the government of Rome. His friends were of the type that gravitated to powerful people, Rich people. And Levi was both powerful and rich. His authority bore the stamp of Rome and when he required tribute, he took it by force if necessary. He would not hesitate to use Roman militia for his purposes if the hapless payee was more than recalcitrant.
Tax collectors were allowed one salient luxury: they were allowed to collect more tax than was actually due the government. Whatever they could get above the required amount was theirs. The Romans did not care. How much they actually collected was based on the assessment of the payee’s ability to pay. Many of them took a flat percentage of profit, others took varying amounts, or whatever they could get. For this, the rest of the Jews hated Levi. The Jewish religious leaders particularly hated him. Asher, for example, thought Levi a beast, something less than dog. He took funds which properly belonged to the synagogue. Asher understood Levi, however, for they were not dissimilar in that both exploited weak people.
Levi sat at his desk fingering the papyri on which were written the tax paying history of the residents of Capharnaum. His eyes glanced at Jesus but rested on Asher. He smiled slightly as if mildly amused at seeing his old nemesis. He also had recognized Jesus instantly, but was nonplussed as to what to say or how to react to him. He immediately thought of Jesus in the context of a taxpayer, but then, without understanding why, dismissed the thought as absurd.
“Asher,” spoke Levi, ignoring Jesus for the moment, “to what do I owe this dubious pleasure, and why the rabble?”
“The rabble, as you put it, follows not me, publican, but him,” pointing to Jesus. “Do you think for one moment that I would allow my shadow to fall upon your lintel? I’d rather wallow with swine.”
Levi laughed at the rabbi’s insult. He could easily have Asher put in prison for such a remark, but would not, and Asher knew it. “Since you are here with him, perhaps you too, are one of his followers?” Levi risked another glance at Jesus. While the other workers in the tax office stood with apprehension, Levi had yet to rise from his place behind his desk. His remark was intended to prick at Asher. Levi knew that Asher would never follow this gentle teacher. He knew intuitively that Asher was there merely to watch what would happen between himself and Jesus. About that, he felt some concern. Without waiting for the rabbi to respond, he turned to Jesus, “Of what interest is this office to you sir?”
“My interest is not in your office, Matthew,” said Jesus, using the more familiar and informal name. “My interest is in you.” He paused briefly and the effect of what he had said registered on the tax official.
“You speak to me as if we were old friends,” said Matthew rising from his desk at last. Somehow, the words of Jesus had seemed to him to be more of an invitation than a simple declaration. “Have we met?”
“Matthew.” Again Jesus spoke his name. This time, he let the word hang as if there were nothing else to say, as if it were the beginning and the end of a complete sentence. It was enough to know for Matthew that it was indeed an invitation, a sweet comfort to hear his name on the lips of this man. And then his next sentence stunned the Roman bureaucrat, “Matthew, I wish you to come with me. I wish to instruct you in the ways of God. I wish you to follow me.”
Unsettled, the publican glanced first at Asher. The rabbi was utterly appalled at the scene; first that Jesus would have anything to do with this Roman monster and second, that Matthew would be open to the impudence of this indigent prophet’s overtures. He completely distanced from what was happening. He attempted to act as if he were simply not there. The tax official then turned back at Jesus whose eyes evenly galvanized his, and whose countenance and warmth was irresistible. He still held in his hand the papyri, the list of registrants which he had been examining before anyone had entered the Office of Tribute. It now fell to the floor. And then the official of the government of Rome came to Jesus who put his arm around his shoulders in welcome.
The accountant from Judea watched as he observed his employer exit the building with this strange man. He too, had been struck by the man’s charismatic demeanor. Thoughtfully, he laid his writing instrument on his desk and quietly followed.
