A strange exchange took place a couple of moments ago. I was sitting out on the porch reading, as I am in the habit of doing when the weather is agreeable. I happened to be reading the bible. It's been a long time since I last made the effort, and I decided to plow through the New Testament over the course of the next couple of months.
The neighbor's kids were outside playing in their yard and there was this guy sitting on their porch who, I assume, was watching over them while their parents were gone. This is the same guy who was there last night, parked out front in his red truck and yelling at someone on the phone, using a startlingly high number of profanities (with an emphasis on "goddamn" and "motherfucker").
For some reason he calls over to me, "What are you reading?"
"Oh, just a book," I said, not really wanting to let him know it was the bible. Not that I'm ashamed of it, but I didn't want him (or anyone else, for that matter) to get the impression I was a bible thumper. Lots of those around these parts, and I don't want to be associated with them in any degree.
"What book is that?" he asked again, and I got the impression he already knew the answer.
"Umm...it's the bible."
Whether he actually did know or not, he didn't sound surprised. He said, "What chapter?"
"Chapter 3."
I turned my attention away from him for a moment, then he asked, "Will you do me a favor?"
"What's that?" I replied.
Inexplicably he said, "Matthew 23. 1 through 5." He wanted me to read this passage of scripture out loud, as he told the kids to gather around and listen.
I couldn't rightly say "no", could I? I got up and walked a few steps towards him, saying something about not wanting to have to raise my voice too much.
So I read: Then Jesus said to the crowds and to his disciples: "The teachers of the law and the Pharisees sit in Moses' seat. So you must obey them and do everything they tell you. But do not do what they do, for they do not practice what they preach. They tie up heavy loads and put them on men's shoulders, but they themselves are not willing to lift a finger to move them. Everything they do is done for men to see: They make their phylacteries wide and the tassels on their garments long..."
When I finished he just sat there for several seconds before saying, "That's the way I live my life."
"Well, that's a good way to live it," I told him, then turned and walked back into the house.
Not real sure what he meant.
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