There was always rivalry between my brother and me. It made me sad to hurt him, but it had become a habit by the time we were grown men.
Perhaps I was alone for too long. There was a point in my childhood when it seemed to me that my mother had become distant. She was close beside me and yet she seemed to be absent. For a while she was ill and then there was a hope that she would have another child, but the hope faded and over the years her eyes became more sad and it seemed as though she no longer saw me.
I wandered off with the other children, knowing she had no longing for me, no embrace to welcome me. And then, when no one expected another child in our family, there he was. He was weak and small, and we spoke of him as though he would not stay with us for long, but he was my brother, with his huge eyes, his pale thin face and the damp curls on his brow. It seemed safer not to love him, so frail he was.
The Calling
He survived though and his thin body grew stronger so that he could run behind me, calling my name, and begging me to let him join the games with our friends and cousins. In time, he took his place with Aba and I in our work. It was there by the sea that we both saw the Lord and heard his call.
Both of us were called at the same moment and I was relieved not to have to leave him; pleased that he would stay beside me but still fearing that he would be the favorite, this the last child of his anxious mother and the delight of his father. He was beautiful and tender, and I loved him even though I envied him. I was the only person who could rouse him to anger, and I found it hard to forgive myself when he was brought to tears by my bitter words.
In Capernaum
On one occasion we were following our Rabbi towards Capernaum. I was tired and completely out of sorts. We were all struggling to come to terms with some of the things Jesus had told us. He seemed to be predicting his own betrayal and worse. It was impossible for us to make sense of what he was saying but none of us dared to question him.
Instead, we returned to our familiar habit of arguing about who ranked highest among us and who would be the Lord’s favorite disciple. The words became more bitter, and I saw my brother’s eyes welling up when I put him back in his place, as the last born and weakest of us and the least likely to be honored in the kingdom.
At that point, as we entered the house, Jesus turned and asked us what we were arguing about. I could not answer him. He looked steadily at all of us and said, “Whoever wants to be first must be last of all and servant of all.” And then, from among the group of people around us he lifted a young boy into the circle and stood him before us.
A Child
The boy was young and slender, he gazed at Jesus with dark eyes. The Lord said, “Whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me welcomes not me but the one who sent me.” And then, in the trusting eyes of the boy I saw my little brother and I saw every ragged child of the village even the lame, the orphaned and fatherless ones, lifted high up in Jesus’ arms and in that moment, I understood Jesus and I loved—not only my Rabbi but my brother.
[Readings: Jas 4:1-10; Mk 9:30-37]
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Thank you for your beautifuly poetic reflection.