Poetry

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WHY DO YOU CALL ME GOOD?

I purposed with all my heart a new rabbi to meet,
I even orchestrated the timing to be discreet.
Accompanied by my entourage and atop my finest mount
I began this quest to erase all doubt
that my religiosity and all my good works, the best of the best!
Yes, my own righteousness could pass heaven’s test.

I found the rabbi and those who followed him
as they were breaking camp, a new journey to begin.
I then saw him, Jesus! His name I had just learned.
He was a good man, that I could readily discern.

Quickly dismounting I ran to him and knelt down
“Good teacher,” I began with my face to the ground
“What must I do to inherit eternal life?”
Silence ensued. He touched my shoulder and bid me rise.
His gaze held me, “Why do you call me good?”
Was there something I had misunderstood?
But no, I was naïve! How could I have known!
Jesus smiled as he replied, “No one is good, except God alone.”

How was I to respond, for he appeared quite concerned?
The response he wanted from me I could not discern.
Jesus smiled. “You know the commandments?” he asked.
I nodded eagerly, for the law was something I could grasp.
He continued, “Do not commit murder. Do not commit adultery.
Do not steal. Do not testify falsely.
Do not defraud.
Give honor to your dad and mom.”
I was quite relieved when I heard the list.
“Teacher, I have kept these since my youth.” I did insist.

Unexpectedly He clasped my hands
then He raised His voice in a command.
“There is but one thing you lack, will you hear?”
It was the first time in my life I had truly known fear.
I felt dread spread through me like a cold, lifeless fire.
How could I have prepared for what next transpired?

Jesus spoke clearly for all to hear and understand.
“Go!” he commanded motioning with his hand,
“And sell all that you have and give to the poor.”
He was embarrassing me. I desired to hear no more,
then placing his hands on my shoulders, he looked at me.
“You will have treasure in heaven, then come and follow me.”

Yes, I turned away so my tears he could not see,
wanting nothing more than to turn and flee.
I stumbled clumsily back to my mount.
Was I really crying? I urged my entourage to turn around.
If I had been played the fool, then why these tears
this discontent and sense of fear?
Somehow Jesus knew - my pride and wealth I could not part!
He required all: mind, soul, and the heart.

Years have passed since the day I turned and walked away.
I chose my own way, but now alone I face the grave.

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