Susan LaffertyForgiven little? Loving little.
Simon invites Jesus to a meal in his home. Holding Him at arm’s length. Studying the Master.
And in the midst of critical scrutiny, he foregoes the most basic act of hospitality.
Washing the feet of his guest.
Pigs rush en masse down the steep bank. To their demise. Leaving one madman behind.
Now clothed. Calm. Coherent. And in his right mind.
The news spreads. People come from town and countryside to see for themselves. Hear eyewitness accounts.
But their response is unexpected.
They don’t want Jesus to stay. In fact, they can’t get Him out of there fast enough.
We dodge auto rickshaws and taxis and goats, crossing a main road. Ten years ago in India.
Our guide asks if we can go to the red light district and pray. Saying, “Be ready. The spiritual battle is intense.”
We step around the corner, into a lane. And I see them. Women in front of narrow doorways on a broken street. Some just sitting. Staring.
Others take care of daily tasks—cooking rice, washing clothes, feeding children.
Ordinary things.
