Vol.9 No.6

The Poor Old Ruler
An imaginary sequel to the story recorded in Matthew 19:16-22.
By Thomas A. Davis

They’ve finally gone, the latest group of pilferers. They threat-ened me with unspeakable consequences if they discovered I had hidden any food from them.

Now nothing but food has any value for anybody. But I have none. I haven’t had a thing to eat for days.

Whatever else that was seen to be worthwhile was taken by previous gangs who broke in and helped themselves. That’s the way it is in the city. There is absolutely no law or order.

I could buy food were it available, but there isn’t even a dog in Jerusalem. I am a rich man. Or I was. I have gold, silver, and gems, buried in a safe place. Nobody knows where they are but I. I have–had–much land around Jerusalem. There’s that olive grove on the slope of the Mount of Olives. The best grove around. Or was. The Romans have cut down almost all the trees to use for crosses. They crucify captured Jews on them. There are hundreds of crosses outside these walls. Oh, what is going to happen to us all? What is going to happen to me?

My wife is dead. My two sons were killed fighting the Romans. My daughter and her husband tried to escape. I don’t know what happened to them.

It’s strange, about those followers of the Nazarene. It appears that every one of them left Jerusalem before this siege began, just after Cestius Gallus unaccountably withdrew his troops from the siege. I have never been able to understand why he did this. Anyway, just after that, the followers of Jesus suddenly left the city. All of them in one day, it seems. So far as I can discover, not one of them stayed. That’s a very odd thing. Did they somehow know the Romans would come back?

I’m so hungry! The little barley I had hidden was found by some of those ruffians who go around raiding houses, taking by force any food they can find. Which isn’t much. We are all starving together, the high priest as well as the beggar—everyone.

I still shudder when I think of what happened a few days ago. Some Zealots were roving the streets in the hope of getting food. They didn’t care how. Suddenly they caught a whiff of meat cooking. The nose gets wonderfully sensitive when one is hungry.

Who would have meat in Jerusalem?

Following their noses, they found the house from which the odor was coming. Bursting through the door, their mouths watering, they demanded the food.

Then they saw something which caused even those hardened, desperate men to pale. I can hardly bear to think of it! Part of a baby’s body was on a table. The rest was cooking in the pot. The mother had been driven so frantic by hunger that she was eating her own child.

Woe! Woe to Jerusalem, the city of David! Where is Jehovah that this should happen to His chosen people?

I do a lot of lying down these days. Not much more I can do. I sleep if I can. It helps me forget my hunger and the awful things happening to us.

From my bedroom window I can see the temple. The last few days there has been a lot of shouting and other noises coming from there.

I am afraid that the Romans will breach the city’s walls, or get in some other way. That will be the end for all of us. But I don’t know how we could possibly hold out much longer. Our men are fighting fiercely, but you can’t go on forever without food.

Some of the leaders, and hundreds of their followers, I understand, think that God will never allow the Romans to capture the temple. I am not sure they are right. I can only hope they are. They have barricaded themselves inside, believing they will be safe, determined to defend it to the end.

keep thinking about those followers of the Nazarene. I almost became one once, forty years ago. I had heard the Nazarene speak. I had never seen or heard anybody like Him. I had seen Him heal the people. He told people their sins were forgiven, and they believed Him. And they were changed. Their lives became different. Too bad He was crucified. He told people He would give them eternal life. I wanted that life He offered.

I came to believe He was the Messiah. I finally decided I must ask to be one of His disciples. I remember I was so eager to follow Him that when I saw Him I started to run toward Him. That’s how eager I was.

Thinking of His offering of eternal life, I asked how I might earn it. His answer was encouraging. “If you wish to have eternal life, keep the commandments.”

I had been a scrupulous keeper of the law all my life. But I was a little unsure of what He was thinking, so I asked, “Which ones?”

I was even more encouraged when He answered, for He referred to the law given to Moses at Sinai, the Ten Words. “I’ve always obeyed every one of them,” I told Him. “What do I still lack?”

I asked that because I felt somehow my obedience wasn’t really sufficient to merit eternal life.

I could see love in Jesus’ eyes. I could see He really wanted me as a disciple. Then He said, “Go and sell all that you possess, and give to the poor. Then you will have treasure in heaven.”

That response shocked me. Get rid of all I possessed! That olive grove on the Mount of Olives, and my other land? This beautiful palace I am now living in? although I can get no satisfaction from that fact now. It only attracts brigands who are running the city and think I must have something worth taking.

I thought of all the money and jewelry I had, which I have hidden where I do not dare touch it. And it wouldn’t do me any good now even if I could.

After some long moments of thought, while Jesus waited silently for my answer, I decided that, as much as I wanted to be His disciple, He expected just too much. I wasn’t willing to go that far. So—reluctantly, I confess—I turned and walked away. I guess I wanted my riches more than I wanted Him or eternal life.

Well, since that time I have become even richer. But not happier, not happier. And now with all that I have, I have nothing. And my life is in the shadow of the Roman sword.

I should have heeded Jesus’ words. Now I would be safely away from Jerusalem. But it’s too late. It’s too late in many ways.

But what’s that? The noise has become louder. There is more shouting from the temple. What’s going on? Oh! God help us! The building is on fire. I can see flames leaping up. The temple is burning.

The Romans must have broken through the wall into the temple. We are doomed, doomed. What can I do? Where can I go?

God have mercy! There’s shouting, screaming outside my house. The Romans are here. They are killing people. God, help me!

What’s that? They are smashing what’s left of my door. God! God, help me! I can hear them running through my house. Now there’s a soldier here in my room, with a bloody sword. God help. . .

Historical epilogue: We are told that at the destruction of Jerusalem, AD 70, more than one million Jews perished, and 97,000 more were taken captive. Yet it was but a faint shadow of the terrible visitation of judgement soon to come upon our world.