Previous Challenge Entry (Level 4 – Masters)
Topic: Hear / Here (01/26/23)
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TITLE: The Beggar | Previous Challenge Entry
By Hannah Gaudette
02/01/23 -
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They’re always silent.
I haven’t been able to hear them in ten years.
When my abba was alive, he said I should thank Adonai I survived the illness that took my hearing.
But being thankful isn’t easy when you’re reduced to a beggar on the streets of your own home.
I’ve seen a lot of these crowds lately. None of them slow down long enough to spare me any money - or to regard me when their stampede sends me to the ground.
Avner said - well, wrote in the sand - that the buzz is about a preacher. A visiting rabbi. He wrote that his words are unlike any rabbi’s he’s ever heard.
I wouldn’t know.
I withdraw from the street as the crowd grows larger. I don’t fancy getting trampled . . . again.
Eventually, the wave of people ebbs. They won’t be back for a while. I can remember when I was a boy, the noise of large crowds would irritate me. I would block my ears. Now I would give anything to hear them.
A man rounds the corner, and I instinctively reach out, ready to ask for his generosity even though I can’t hear myself speak the words.
But it is Avner, the fellow beggar who told me about the popular rabbi.
Wait . . . Avner is paralyzed on his left side. But as he approaches, he is bounding like a boy. His face is awash with joy and tears. What is this?
His lips are moving as though he’s forgotten I can’t hear him any more than the street can. At the apparent end of his sentence, he rushes towards me, pulling me by the arms. I try to voice an objection, but I’m not confident speaking. I don’t say much anymore.
It takes only a second to realize where he is taking me. The crowd, some two hundred people, has gathered in the square. In the center, most people are seated on the ground, listening intently to the man standing among them.
Is that the rabbi? Why would Avner bring me here? For goodness’ sake, I can’t hear the man!
Avner keeps pulling me, forcing me into the crowd. Eyes are turning upon us, and I cringe. I shouldn’t be here. I’m not welcome. For that matter, presumptuous Avner isn’t, either.
How he is walking? How is he pulling me with both arms?
He stops in front of the rabbi. I open my mouth to ask the man’s pardon, but I’m stopped by his gaze. He has stopped speaking and fixed his eyes on me.
Avner finally releases me and I take a step back.
The rabbi - who isn’t dressed like a Pharisee - steps in front of me. His gaze is . . . compassionate. Nothing like the glances I usually get from people.
He reaches out and a smile spreads across his face. He reaches to cover my ears with his hands.
Why would he do that? I can’t-
A strange sensation fills my ears. Like a rush of cold air. Then it is gone.
What . . .?
Sounds! I glance this way and that. A man shuffles his feet . . . I can hear it. A woman gasps . . . I can hear it!
Praise God! I can hear it!
I face the man in front of me. I work my tongue. “Who . . . Who are you?” My voice! I haven’t heard my own voice in so long.
He answers, “I am Jesus of Nazareth.”
Nazareth? Truly?
I touch my ears. I can hear my fingers brush my skin. I can hear!
I glance over at Avner. He is still bouncing on his toes. With a bubbling laugh, he says, “He healed me, too!”
I embrace my friend. “Thank you, Avner!” I look back at this Jesus of Nazareth as all the emotions constrict my throat. “Thank you,” I manage.
Who is this man who stands before me? Who could heal a beggar’s lameness, a beggar’s ears?
Who would wish to?
Avner and I sit down with the others, and I listen, enraptured, to the words the rabbi preaches.
As I listen, tears fill my eyes. Who is he? His words are spoken with authority and understanding I’ve never imagined.
Could he . . . could he be . . .?
He speaks of God, like one holds incredible wisdom. He speaks of the Son of Man . . . as he refers to himself.
A thrill races through me. What if it is true?
What if . . . the Messiah is here?
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I was confused by "any more than the street can." You set me in Bible times, and here was a can? Did they have cans then? On thinking about it, I realized you meant the street can hear. I imagined he couldn't hear his friend any better than he could hear a can (trash) rolling around in the street. Maybe no one else would think that, but I did, and you may want to clarify that.
Keep writing.