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How Would You Label This Man?
Sydney Harris, R.I.P.
The census taker from Rome was sent to Galilee around A.D. 28. As he entered the region, he came across a man sitting on a donkey. The man had long hair and a flowing beard; he wore an old tattered cloak, sandals and beads.
"Pardon me," the census taker said, "but I'm taking the census. Do you mind answering a few questions?"
"Not at all," said the man on the donkey. "I believe in rendering unto Caesar the things that are Caesar's."
"What is your job?" asked the census taker.
"I have no job," replied the man. "Consider the lillies of the field--they toil not, neither do the spin."
"What is your family?"
"I have no family," the man answered. "I have left my parents and my brothers and sisters and I live alone."
"What is your address?"
The man sighed, "Foxes have holes, and the birds of the air have nests; but I have nowhere to lay my head."
"Humph," muttered the census taker to himself. "No job and no fixed abode. Now do you belong to any clubs or have social affiliations?"
"None," said the man. "For no man can serve two masters."
"Do you go to school?"
"Nay," replied the man, "for which of us by taking thought can add one cubit to his stature?"
"Do you have any visible means of support?"
The man shook his head. "Lay not up for yourselves treasures upon earth where moth and rust corrupt and thieves break through and steal," he answered.
"Have you registered for military service?"
"I resist not evil, but return good for evil," replied the man. "And whosoever shall smite me on the right cheek, I shall turn to him the other also."
"Who are your friends?"
"I go among publicans and sinners."
"What political party do you belong to?"
The man shrugged, "Only this--a new commandment I give you that you love one another."
The census taker scribbled on his sheet: "Hippie character, school dropout, no permanent address, no job, probable draft dodger and pacifist, alienated from family, no wife or children, no church affiliation, dubious associates among lowest elements in town."
"One more thing," asked the census taker, "What is your name?"
The bearded one smiled sadly. "Some call me the Son of Man." Both then left to go on their respective ways.
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