The Young Rich Man (Hard Critics wanted)
I will appreciated very much your time spend in reading this story. Hard critics are wanted; don’t worry to be too nice ;)
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A soft breeze blew, the white and yellow veils hanging in the terrace moved softly with it. At the balcony, a young man stood quietly looking away toward the dusty city beneath and its horizon. A heavy looking silver cup was held in his left hand. He drank silently the dark vivid wine enjoying unconsciously every lavish drink of it. Being totally immerse in his thoughts, the young man didn’t notice his servants working at his back. Quietly and delicately each servant placed ceramic bowls containing colored and fresh fruits of the season on the table at the right of their master’s back. Strong male servants carried in equal meekness and quietness tall clay vessels overflowing in water. The soft noise of the splashing, falling, water drops joined the soft warm breeze creating the peaceful state in that terrace in the city of Jerusalem.
“I’ve followed the teaching. I’ve done it all” thought the young man. “What else can be done?”
Suddenly the heavy wood door at his left back side flew open violently breaking the harmony of the place. Every present person in the room turned toward the door in total surprise, including the young man. A servant, who didn’t expect to see her master in that room, stopped sharply her race and as well as her breathing throwing a surprised look to her master. Instantly, she bowed to the young man relaxing her expression and raising fearfully her right hand to her chest. The lost eyes and the relaxed semblance of the young man’s face had vanished and a serious and haughty look took their place. Immediately the agitated servant talked trying to hold her breath.
“I’m sorry, milord, to enter to your place of rest so abruptly. I wasn’t aware of your presence in here. Even thought I’m happy I’ve found you right away.”
The young man raised his chin not letting his curiosity be revealed.
“Talk, woman” commanded the young man in a potent tone.
“The Master you’ve been searching for has come to the city” replied the woman without fear in her tone anymore but excitement. “The men at the doors of the city said he arrived early this morning. Many women had told me he is in one of the houses at the plaza; many people had gone to hear him.” The servant knew the importance of the news she had bring to her master and could help smiling. The face of the young man didn’t produced fear now anyway; his face had brightened and his eyes had widened and sparked as the woman was speaking. There was a smile and a tear hidden inside of him. “The Master is here. Finally,” Thought the young man controlling his enthusiasm that could have made him jump. But he stood firm and in the same potent tone as before he said:
“Can I trust your word, woman?”
“Yes, milord, you can. Many women and their children were on their way to see him when I heard the news. But you should hurry, milord, for he won’t stay much longer in the same place.”
“Thank you, woman” said the young man with honesty but with his mind far away from there already.
“I have to go to Him. I have to” thought the young man.
In a fast pace almost running he walked toward the doors and handed the silver cup to the servant. With a strong push he opened quickly the though wood doors. He loved the feeling when those doors were opened…they were majestic doors.
“Solos! Mecca! Come with me” ordered the young man as he disappeared turning right. The two servants left their places and run after their master who was already gone.
Two steps away from the tall wood doors the quietness and the peaceful air of the terrace vanished instead loud people noises replace them. A long crowded aisle surrounded by high yellow bricks walls ran perpendicularly in front of the young man’s terrace door. Walking sellers, woman buyers and their children, dirty beggars, smelly camels and nauseous dogs moved slowly toward both directions. The noise was helpless. The young man ignored it all, the noise, and the dirt on the ground, the beggars’ calls and the people’s stares. He just kept trying to advance between pushing bodies and hands, always with his head up as trying to see beyond the crowd.
“The Master. The Master, could it be really him?” “Was the woman right? There could be rumors or a lie…but if it is true… He could tell me. He could.” “I wish I could move faster between this people!” Said the young man to himself.
The aisle finally came to its end; the sunrays reached the lower sides of the walls and the heads and shoulders of the persons coming in and out of it. As soon as he got out of the pressure of the aisle and into the sun heat, he accelerated his pace and started to run shushing the inhibitions of his mind. He heard the running feet behind him and remembered he had called Solos and Mecca to come with him. He just ran, expecting the sight of the plaza where the Master was supposed to be-nothing else mattered then. In the plaza, scattered people walked here and there. The young man turned his head to every way searching for a face, a man or a sign that could tell him where the Master was. From the far right end of the plaza, several children ran out of an arched passage playing and laughing with happy screams. Behind them, at a slow pace, women and older children came. The women smiled to each other, some kissed their sons on the forehead happily. There was something special in each face that the young man couldn’t explain what it was.
Soon the smallest children were around him chasing each other and laughing out loud.
“Zanan! Watch your way” called one of the women of the group trying to avoid her kid to crush on the young man.
“Jesus had blessed me mom!” screamed the child as she had forgotten already what has happened.
“Jesus? Have you seen the Master, kid?” asked suddenly the young man to the kid, who turned to him right away.
“Yes Sir! He had put his hand on my head and bless me” answered the child cheerfully without any fear.
The woman who had called him before had been coming closer. “Zanan!” she called one more time. The child ran to her immediately. The woman putting her hand at his back walked away talking him in a slow voice and throwing doubtful glances to the young man.
“Milord, there!” called one of the servants pointing with his finger the arched passage from where the children had came out of. There was a crowd around a man who tried to go through them.
“The Master, there he is!” said the young man and he ran to him. “I have to catch him. It is not too late.”
As he approached the arch, the crowd became quieter at his sight. Soon, intimidated looks mixed with wonder set in everyone’s eyes. Men and women gave him a quick look and either they bended their heads avoiding meeting their eyes with his or looked away following their own paths. Only beggars held their eyes fixed on him and claimed.
The young man knelt to the man standing in the center. The people around had been watching the scene in a silenced surprise; with great curiosity they stared the young man, and some started to whisper…
“Who is he?”
“What is he doing here?” asked a farer voice.
“He should be a ruler, of course” answered a deep voice.
“But he’s just a young man” whispered an old woman from between the crowd.
“He’s rich” said a voice trying to make his whisper louder.
The contrast between the young man and the people of the crowd was great. No one else wore a silk robe of any kind as the young man did. Even the Master looked plain as everyone else; there was nothing that could tell his greatness. The people’s necks were nude necks, sunburned and covered with clay dust. No gold or silver was around them neither on their daughters’ while the young man felt the weight of the refined gold chain rounding his. Yes, it all was his.
“Good Master” the young man said breaking the still silence. “What should I do to inherit the eternal life?” asked the young man; finally, after so much time he was asking the question that has caused in him so many disturbances.
“To whom do you call good master?” answered Jesus, who had been looking attentively to him. “Nobody is good but God.” Jesus continued. “You know the commandments: do not kill, do not commit adultery, do not steal, do not lie, do not deceive, honor your father and mother.”
“Master” said the young man, “I’ve obeyed each one of them since I was a kid.” There was desperation behind the young man’s words. He just longed for assuring words that could set down this burning fear inside of him. He knew Jesus was the only one who could do it; he knew he was the one that could.
“Still you need one thing,” said Jesus staring directly to his eyes in deep love, “sell everything what you have and give it to the poor, and you’ll have treasure in heaven. Then, come and follow me.”
Hearing Jesus’ answer, the young man felt a pull on his entrails. His eyes widened in shock. They both kept looking straight in each other eyes. The young man waited for Jesus to say something else but Jesus kept silent saying nothing else.
The crowd became completely silent stopping the whispers at Jesus’ reply. There was a reverence feeling in the air that didn’t allow their consciousness to talk. The young man saw in Jesus’ eyes that he understood how he felt, his inner fight, his anguish, his horrible fear, and his pain as well. No one but Jesus seemed to know how significant it really was.
“But it is mine.” screamed the young man without a word.
Jesus, in equal silence answered back in pain and compassion, “I know” “it is only in you, son.”
It seemed like if the world had stopped in those seconds until the young man couldn’t held his eyes on Jesus’ anymore. Now, it was uncomfortable and painful. He drop down his head and walked away feeling the people’s stares as spears all over his head, back and chest. The light silk on him was now heavy soaked cotton fabric and the gold around his neck chains. The long rough robes of the crowd people seemed perfect; now he felt shame to be wearing his own clothes in front of the people when it used to be the opposite. It was him who put down his head avoiding any eyes this time as he walked through from the crowd.
When he got to the tall wood doors of his terrace in that long dusty aisle, he stopped. And studying carefully once more every engrave done in the wood he thought: “Beautiful doors. Great doors.” They didn’t just look heavy but felt heavy on him. He opened them pushing with anger and proud. Still, it all was his. And he loved it.
