A sermon on the mount

 

 

A man stands atop a hill amidst a hoard of 10,000. Sweat glistened so brightly on his balding oversized forehead that the spectators in the back would swear they saw a halo. The man cleared his throat and began to speak as loud and strong as a parched man of 40 can. “Don’t be stupid,” he said and turned around to leave. He could hear the low hum of disapproval circling through the crowd like a vulture. The wings beat faster and the hum began to roar, so before the first rock was hurled, he reclaimed the spot of celebrated angst and began again to speak. “Alright, I will expound.” he said and the roar became a murmur. “A man named Joshua was once a Shepard. He raised and watched the sheep from the time he was a boy, and when his father left this world, his meager flock was his only legacy. He had very little in this world, but he was happy. He played his harp and sang songs of thanks to his god for all that he had. One day he killed a fat sheep and skinned and cleaned it behind a bush so as not to upset his flock. He was returning to camp when a traveler came into view from behind a tree. The man could see that the traveler was emaciated with hunger with a bundle of rags on his back as his only luggage. He greeted the man with a nod as he approached the camp and began to speak.

            “I see that you have a fine dinner in store for you, a fine lamb thick with nutritious protein. I wondered if you might part with a small amount to sustain my life, as I am hungry and have not eaten for days,” said the traveler.

            “What can you give me in return?” asked the Shepard. “I have very little and couldn’t bear to part with it without some compensation.”

            The traveler replied, “Alas, I have nothing but good company and gratitude to offer, for I am poor. The gods have frowned upon me of late and I fear that they should like to see me die.”

             “Far be it for me to oppose the gods.” said the Shepard. “And the best company that I can hope to keep is my own. I have no need for gratitude and I shall have more satisfaction from watching my leftovers putrefy than knowing that another beggar shall live one day more to pester innocents for what little they have. Be gone with you now, and let me enjoy the meat that I have worked so very hard to maintain for so long.”

            “That’s very narrow of you sir,” replied the traveler with polite vehemence. “You obviously have more than you can eat there, and I only wish to fill my shrunken gullet with a hand full of your scraps. Can’t you find it in your heart to let me chew the bones when you are finished? You may very well be in this position some day yourself.”

            But the Shepard would have none of that. “I said be gone you wretched beast, before I bludgeon you with the very food you beg for.”

            The traveler was infuriated by the man’s show of heartless greed, so he laid his hand on a large rock and hurled it at the man with all the force that a skeleton can supply.

            The rock struck the face of the Shepard and the lamb fell from his hands into an anthill. The Shepard stumbled back and spit out a mouth full of teeth and sputtered through the blood, “Damn you beggar, you have deprived me of my livelihood as well as my means for enjoying it. I shall take pleasure in denying you your last few days on this earth.” And with that he laid his hand on the same rock and hurled it back at the beggar with all his might.

            The rock made contact with his face, shattering his nose and depriving him of the few teeth which he had not yet lost in other ventures. The traveler laughed as he spit them out. “Fool, I had nothing when I came to you and I leave you now with even less, but you who had everything, have lost it all in an attempt to hold on to a tiny bit that you would have thrown away anyway. I would ask you how it feels, but I once made the same mistake myself. It is the fate of those who are blessed to damn themselves, for they will not think until they have to. And as you can plainly see, by then it is too late.”

            By the time that those words were out of his toothless hole, the Shepard was upon him, thrashing and thrusting all things hard into all things soft, and soon the vile annoyance was dispatched. He kicked him a few times more just for good measure and then turned his eyes to what would have been his dinner, only to find a lamb shaped mass of ants. He glanced around to take inventory of the rest of the flock but couldn’t find a single woolly hide. “The violence must have frightened them away,” he thought as he spit a mouth full of blood onto the corpse of his enemy. He went into the woods to search them out but not one could be found. He returned to camp and glared upon the body of his enemy. With no other choice, he cleaned and boiled the man and drank the watery broth and from it gained little satisfaction. When days had passed and the broth was gone and the remains of the stew were beginning to show evidence of blue fur, he started out on his long journey, in search of food, all the while cursing the beggar who ruined his happy life.”

            The man atop the mound stared expectantly at the crowd, hoping for some sign of recognition. At last that sign came in the form of a large fat man chasing a child through the crowd. He ordered his disciples to stop the man and ask him why he chased the child. “The child stole my moneybag, and I want to get it back.” replied the man. The prophet wiped the sweat from his brow and turned to walk back to his tent. And as he walked he heard a man say, “What a man. He will surely be our savior, see how he shakes with power as he enters his tent.” With a tear in his eye the prophet withdrew a small dagger from his bundle of belongings and fell on it with a sigh of relief