Susan LaffertySimple earthen vessels. There they are.
Wading through laws in Leviticus, I see them. In the details. Amid ritual regulations for priests, Levites, and the people of God.
In these particular earthen pots, they boil the sin offering. That only priests may eat.
Their use is short-lived in the days of the Old Covenant. Bronze bowls can be scrubbed clean. Earthenware can’t.
My mother tells the story. Her dad was going blind. So every morning she or her sister would stop by the home where he stayed. And read the Bible to him.
One particular day, Mom was in a hurry. On a tight schedule. She rushed in with no time to spare. Out of breath and talking fast. “So, Daddy, which chapter do you want me to read today?”
In his slow Southern drawl, Grandaddy said “Well, how about Psalm 119?”
They hear about this man. News travels fast along trade routes. Rumors fly down country roads.
And suddenly, here he is. Walking into their village.
They stand at a distance. Ten men. Diseased. Desperate in their pain and isolation. Unclean.
“Jesus, Master, have mercy on us.” They say it loud. Across the divide.
