Walk the Way the Wind Blows

The old man leaned on his staff and placed his other hand on the walls of the building lining the the street. He walked alone, slowly and with purpose. His hip may be wasting away, but at least he could still see well enough in the dark to navigate this unfamiliar place. He could still hear the laughter, arguments and cries of children as he went. Thanks be to God that he could still do that.  

His colleagues were not all as fortunate. Some old ones were losing sight or hearing, but he was amazed at their still-nimble minds. Together they walked down familiar paths of memory with no staff to feel the way. Their heads would lean back and they would look heavenward as they recited verse upon verse. Tears would stream down as they recounted ancestors, persecutions, victory and betrayal. He had to laugh to himself recounting their endless circular arguments. Pointed fingers and raised voices, stroking beards and wagging heads. They were his friends and his life for so many, many years. They had helped shape his thoughts and find the way.

 The way. 

So if he knew his way, why was he meandering down this dark street on a summer night to meet with someone who turned another way? That was always a problem with him wasn’t it? Too quick to consider new ideas and leaving the door open a touch. Well, some wouldn’t say so. Some wanted him to bend much more. New wine in old wineskins. Still, he carried weight himself. He had convinced more than one or two. He was not without authority. 

Now his shuffling steps kicked up the dust and grime to leave it layered on his sandaled feet. A dog came yipping at him, then sniffing, then oblivious in predictable stages. The owner of the animal came out and the old man asked a couple questions for direction. “Just over there,” was the reply, “see the light?”. Yes – he smiled and replied he could and thanked the man before heading across the open and unbraced street. The man leaned against the door jamb and watched the old man teeter toward the light wondering what business his kind had in this neighborhood.

As the old man approached the doorway – he hesitated. Was this wise? What did he hope to gain? If his friends found out, he would be berated and endlessly questioned. It could get contentious even for a man in his position. He couldn’t reconcile it in his mind. He was compelled to come. For an instant he felt as though he would go; should all his mind and body resist and cry ‘no’. 

He knocked upon the door and waited. He could hear movement. He was about to knock once more just as the door opened and revealed the faces of two un-smiling young men. One towered over the old man. The shorter man was stripped to the waist and held a bowl. The larger man looking over and past the old man half expecting to see others. “Yes?”, questioned the younger.

“Ah – you see. I was in the temple yesterday morning. There was…”, he chose his words, “…a commotion.” The smaller man gave a knowing smile. “Yes – there was a commotion.” He said this directly – not with pride or sadness. Or even as a matter of fact. He said it as if it was inevitable. He might just easily have commented on the sun rising. “Why yes, the sun did rise…“. 

“Are you alone?”, asked the larger one. 

The old man replied that he was.

“And you want to know what happened – or why?”

The old man told the truth slowly. “Not exactly. But I won’t deny that’s one reason I’m here. Or the cause of it. I … I’ve heard things. Things that are as dangerous as they are intriguing to me – and to others.”. He paused, “I don’t know why I’m here. But here I am.”

With that he slouched a little. The walk had started to take a toll and the younger man could see the weariness. 

“Please Rabbi”, he said, “enter.” And Nicodemus walked inside. 

*****************************

Yesterday the man before him had been enraged. It was difficult to believe it they were the same. He had watched from behind the columns. The man had upended tables and pushed over tills of the moneychangers. The scramble for lose coins and free money drew the attention largely away from the man and his shouts – but Nicodemus had listened. In the commotion, the man had picked up a whip and started in on the proprietors. To Nicodemus what he was shouting was nearly as astounding as his actions.  He had seen false-messiahs in his time, but nothing like this. 

Now the same man leaned against the wall next to the window and smiled. He invited Nicodemus to sit; which he did with some difficulty. The space was small and their knees nearly touched as they looked one another over. The lamp light was pushed by the soft breeze through the open window between them. Perhaps the most extraordinary thing about the man was his lack of being extraordinary.  Nicodemus wasn’t afraid. But he certainly wasn’t at ease. It was like being in the presence of a mighty workhorse tied off with slender twine. The presence of the twine was only at the pleasure of the horse. 

The man said, “I will tell you the solemn truth Nicodemus, unless a man is born of water and spirit, he cannot enter the kingdom of God. What is born of the flesh is flesh, and what is born of the Spirit is spirit. Don’t be amazed that that I said, ‘You must all be born from above….'” and at this the summer air pushed the thin curtains. Nicodemus would remember that later – he would remember that always. The man turned his head to acknowledge the breeze, close his eyes and drink in its sweetness. 

“The wind blows wherever it will, and you hear the sound it makes – but you don’t know where it comes from….. or where it’s going.”  He smiled again and looked into Nicodemus. “So it is with everyone who is born of the Spirit”. 

Their minds wrestled for more hours. Nicodemus wanted to understand. He needed to understand. But the man had parried each turn and with his questions, shaken Nicodemus. Perhaps like the wind, he did not where this came from or where it was going. But he knew that his imagination and heart were forever bound now. New things were expected of him. He had always been a man of hope – but now the hope burned.

Upon standing at last to leave, the overly large one who had so gruffly welcomed Nicodemus hours before, now insisted on walking him back to his house. During the long conversation, he had come and gone – finally staying for a long stretch as he could see the old man struggling in sincerity. Now morning was not that far off and the old man and the big man walked mostly in silence back into the better part of town. The big man could tell that Nicodemus was still deep in thought and so he kept silent.  Still, they covered the ground quickly. 

Eventually they arrived at the door and Nicodemus turned to say good night – or good morning which was closer to the truth. 

“Thank you for your hospitality. I must say I didn’t know what to expect – and I wasn’t disappointed.” 

The big man laughed and said, “Yes – I know what you mean. It is hard to resist. He does that.” And he turned to walk away.

“Oh – and Rabbi. I remembered you left your staff with us. I’ll bring it around later today…”, smiling he said, “…perhaps your need of it won’t be as great from now on.”