Through the Eye of a Needle

It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle, than for a rich man to enter into the kingdom of God. – Words of Jesus (Mat.19:24)

Two were walking on a road, in very intent conversation. These two people were quite different, and so I shall explain each in detail. One was a lawyer: a doctor of law. He had studied long in law, lore, and religion. Of these, he found that law appealed to him most.
Law was firm, steady. Lore was unsteady, founded on legend in most cases. Even when it was undoubtedly true, lore had the tendency to defer to patriotism rather than actual facts.
Religion? Religion was as faith (to him): fickle, something not to be trusted. Why? Perhaps it had been his many misadventures with it, or perhaps the aspect of faith that went with it. Faith was something he disliked. He liked the law. Law was clear, steady, firm. Law was irremovable, clear, steady, and firm.
Law was also profitable. Law gave one the best. When one served Law, Law gave back in like measure. One who lived by the Law could expect to do just that: live. Not only did it serve his physical needs, but also his mind. He could meet one hundred people in one day and could have the confidence of having the superior intellect. To him, at least, that was something worth living for.
So it was that he walked on this road, his train a ways behind, and also a ways in front. He was dressed in wealthy robes with a jeweled dagger and matching sword. Another thing to be sure of: Law protected its servants.
But why, one must ask, would one such as he, a servant of almighty Law, walk with this, this other? To be honest there were few who knew. His servants didn’t know, his bodyguards didn’t know, the road certainly didn’t know, and even his intellect wasn’t entirely sure. Not that it would have admitted that fact, though.
The other was different. The other was not a doctor of law, nor even a devoted servant of the law. He simply, to the other, was. He didn’t really have much, nor did he want much.
An easy match for my mind. That’s what the doctor had thought. That’s what he figured in that big, smart, brilliant mind of his.

“So, tell me, please,” the doctor said.
“Tell you what?” The other seemed knowing, but discreet about it.
“What you were telling me back there, around the last bend.”
“You’re truly interested?”
“Why, of course! I am intrigued by many things, religion none the least.”
“I had not taken you for a religion enthusiast,” the other replied. “You impress me!”
The doctor’s head tilted a little straighter, and he smoothed his robes with care.
“Ah, but how could you have known? Do not worry: few have made that guess, even for all my hints.” He sniffed. “But than, many people do not aspire to make guesses at all.”
“How so, my dear sir? On the contrary, I find much that the commoners such as I question.”
Respect. The doctor liked to be paid respect. He also appreciated effort. He had a big enough head to see that the man was making an effort. His words were cultured enough, but the accent and tones were off by a large margin. He obviously wasn’t used to speaking like this, but the effort to communicate in a higher tongue than his natural inclination was noticed and appreciated.
“Ah, questions are different than guesses. The commoner questions, the wise hypothesize,” the doctor answered, almost thoughtlessly. However, he wasn’t too big (in the head) to be courteous, and soon noticed his error. “But wait! My apologies sir, I did not mean to simply group you with…”
“Oh no, you would be right. Fear not for my account, I will take no offense at thy words. I am but a simple man. But still, you have a point: the asking of a question is different than seeking an answer.” He laughed slightly. “But I see, or perhaps sense, that you do have a question.”
“A question? Perhaps. Maybe an answer as well.”
“Pray, ask it. I see you have not joined me on foot for nothing.”
“Again you score aright. Truly, our earlier conversation was intriguing and it sparked an interest in me. It was, so to speak, simply a thought. Well, more than a thought.
“You had spoken of faith, and had spoken of it in the highest of terms. I myself am no believer in faith, and so to find one who professes to be is a find of significance. I simply cannot pass the chance to ask about some few matters I had with the idea.”
“Of course, but of course you have the answers, too. Correct?”
“Perhaps, but I—”
“Have no fear, I see perfectly. Simply by allowing me to answer does not say that you have them not. I understand.”
The doctor nodded in agreement.
“So,” said the other, “what is the first matter?”
“Firstly, the very concept. You said you had ‘faith’ that your immediate need would be supplied, correct?”
“Yes.”
“So, aside from the immediate meaning of that word, what did you mean?”
“Simply, I meant that I firmly knew, and know, that the need will be taken care of.”
“Ah! So in that case, it means a firm belief, or knowledge, that God is present.”
“Yes. I am, as you know a firm believer.”
“Indeed, I had guessed it well. But little do those who believe practice this ‘faith’ that they profess often. How do you profess when they do not?”
“Perhaps it was the individuals you have formerly known rather than the majority. But that is unlikely, and you have rightly spoken. Yes, few practice their faith aright, and most only have a belief in the Most High, rather than a faith of his provision.”
“That does answer some things, yet brings more. You see, I believe, perhaps, in God. Yet I do not. I have had, as you guessed, much contact with other believers. Yet they seemed to be just that: believers. They simply believed in a God, and left it there. How do you take it further in this respect?”
“It is similar to the way of the lord. A lord commands his servants. If a lord says to his servant, ‘do this’, that servant does it. Applying that same principle to my life, if my Lord says ‘do this’, I do it. And as with the earthly lord, if he commands his servant to make a journey, he supplies him with substances of flesh and gold to make the journey in good and efficient order. So it is with I, and I believe that having been ordered, I will receive the means with which to apply my Master’s orders in an efficient and timely fashion.”
“If you do not mind me saying, this seems to take a great deal of what you call ‘faith’. How can you be sure that your faith is sufficient for this?”
“It can be said in two ways. But firstly, know that it is not always easy to understand to one who does not try. It is just as one goes out to catch fish. Those who have never gone do not understand how one can simply throw out a net and catch fish, much less deal with the wind, the instruments of the boat, and many other factors. It is not until one steps out and tries that they see how it is all possible. So it is with I. I step out to do my Lord’s will, and I trust that it will happen. One, such as your self, who watches me wonders for they have not tried it.”
“And I fear to ever try such a thing. Perhaps I could have in my younger days, but not now. I like stability. God, or perhaps, religion, never gave me that. It only gave me obligations, and unsteady recompense. That is why I took up law,” he said, adjusting his robe yet again. “I chose law for its rock-solid dependency. I know that if I point to the book of the law, I can always succeed, for it is written. How can a religion have that same sturdiness?”
“Simply, because we have our Lord’s word on the matter. It is again back to faith. You say the obligations were great, yet the recompense unsteady. I say that you had a lack of faith.”
“Or perhaps I only had more intelligence than the rest of those fools that practice your religion.”
“Ah, but perhaps you are more intelligent. Indeed, I say you are. It is no easy thing to speak with men such as you, for they already believe that they know.”
“You mean I intimidate you?” the doctor eagerly asked.
“No, I mean you are as a student who knows too much.”
“A student?”
“Yes. One who asks is a student. He cannot know more than the teacher. The servant is not greater than the lord. How does a teacher react to a student who knows more on the subject that he? What can he teach, and how can he teach it?”
“I see. My apologies are to you, for I have not—”
“No apologies needed, my friend. I simply thought you should know.”
“And I am wiser for it.”
“Indeed. The wise are those who know that they still have more to learn.”
“Which is why I have asked.”
“Than should I continue?”
“You may.”
“Very well then. What I was saying is this: the recompense is never unsteady. Wait, let me explain. It is faith, true, but all religion is faith. It is some faith, more faith, or little faith, but faith none the less. So while I have faith, the recompense is steady. When you doubt, of course it is unsteady.”
“You speak true.” The doctor sighed. “It is a pity I could not find it steady as you can.”
“A pity? Perhaps. Perhaps our Lord simply needed to show you something.”
“Something?”
“Yes. He needed, I believe, to show you literal faith. He needed you to know what faith was. So by going into the law, you had a literal example of faith. You are able, now, to point me to any law, and claim it. So it is with our Lord.”
“You can claim Him?”
“Yes. Tell me, have you read any of Jesus’ teachings?”
“Indeed I have. I have read much of Him, and heard even more. That is why I was curious of you, knowing you follow Him.”
“And you once, in a way, followed Him.”
“I—”
“Almost?”
“Yes. Almost.”
“And the rewards were not clear enough for your sacrifice?”
“Yes.”
“So you did not sacrifice?”
“Yes again! Where is your insight from?”
“Faith.”
“Of course. I wish I had such faith.”
The other gripped his arm. “It is not beyond your reach.”
“But how can I reach it?”
“He told you once, and He told you what to do to maintain it. It still stands in that vein, and it still is worthy of your confidence.”
“But—”
“Friend,” he said, with an air of finality in his voice, “this conversation has been spoken before. You know what you can do, and what is in your power. Now, will you indeed follow? Or will you not? The choice is yours.”
The doctor remembered those words. Sell all that thou hast, and distribute unto the poor, and thou shalt have treasure in heaven: and come, follow me.
“I think,” said he, looking first to the bright, merry sun than back to the man, “that this time, I will follow.”