It’s dangerous what a book title can do. Especially when one hasn’t even read the book yet. “Jesus for President,” by Shane Claiborne and Chris Haw, has settled in on my bookshelf along with several other titles yet to make it to first place on my “to read” list. When this minister turned off the television with its disappointingly kindergarten-ish debate about health care reform and moved onto the deck on a cool summer evening with the relaxing benefit of a crisp little glass of merlot, the result? A light-hearted 1st century fantasy laced with a twist of hope and a splash of the Holy.
It was late Galilee afternoon and the Rabbi and his followers were exhausted after another satisfying yet hectic 15 hour day of healing the sick. Jesus could never turn anyone away. There was always one more person with a bunion, or fever, or cough or broken bone waiting outside long after the Galilee JesusCare clinic should have closed.
The mood was one of agitation. Peter was whining: “I’ve had the lepers for four days now, please, please may I organize the migraines tomorrow?” John was scrubbing his hands again and again, more accustomed to scaling fish than preparing the mud and spittle clay Jesus used on the cataracts. Thomas followed Jesus around like a puppy dog. “Are you sure that fractured hip you touched up will really hold Ezra’s 250 pounds, Jesus? What if Ruth’s tonsils flare up again and we’ve left to go back to Nazareth? I really doubt those boils on Ebenezer’s backside are gone for good.” Jesus was used to this and smiled with amusement. Johanna and Mary had Jesus’ cloak, sewing one more round of patches at the torn hem where poking, grasping hands had hysterically tried to make contact with the popular and proven Healer. And once again (it happened every day about this time), that one giddy leprosy-healed man poked his nose in the door and said, “Thank you Jesus! Thank you Jesus!” James muttered under his breath, “We heard you, we heard you, why don’t you go find your nine ungrateful pals and teach them some manners?” Jesus looked over disapprovingly, covering his understanding smile with a cough.
In the meantime, Andrew and Matthew were up on the roof repairing a bed-sized hole. “What am I supposed to know about thatch?” fisherman Andrew said. “I do nets”. “I don’t know where we’re going to get the money for this” said Judas, (yes, that Judas) looking up from the room below. Jesus ignored them, remembering the devotion of the man’s friends, insisting that there was a way for their mat-ridden friend with quadriplegia to get access.
As a hint of an evening breeze began to stir up off the Lake, Jesus gathered his friends together. He lit the candles, “blessed are you, Lord God, Ruler of the Universe, because of you we have these gifts to share.” He poured the wine and they passed the plates of tilapia and pita bread and fat, ripe, olives.
And as they drank their wine, they remembered the day which had passed and what they had heard from the one they trusted and had chosen to follow.
When they had dismissed the children he had said, “No, do not hinder them, let the little children come to me.”
When they were overwhelmed by how much Jesus had to do, he had said, “I give you authority. Go! Cure them.”
When they asked how they should prioritize the line-up of patients he had said, “just ask them ‘Do you want to be healed?’”
Do we want the system healed?
How would Jesus do it if he were president? I wonder if I’d listen to him if he were? Or would I just sit around with you drinking wine and eating hummus smothered pita saying, “Lord, Lord”?
source: http://www.hollandsentinel.com/lifestyle/x1528806314/COLUMN-Is-this-health-care-Nazareth-style
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