Offend us, Please

 

Deep in her heart she was a punk rock girl. She would grow to be wise and calm. Her eyes would soften. Her voice would become serene. But now, in this moment, she was wild and unlearned and in desperate need of a protector. One had come to her just that morning. He sat with her now, invisible to the other punks, but stronger and braver than any she'd ever known. He whispered in her ear, "Say."

The new professor entered the class with assumed bravado. He had been told they were eager to learn, but was astonished by the welcome they gave him.

"Offend us, please, we have much to learn." 

It was their customary greeting for those who would teach them.

He smiled deeply. In all his days he had not seen humility like this in a classroom, certainly not among the young. How had they come upon it? It was a miracle, like everything else.

He began his lecture. He said man reaches to God with 10,000 religions. He knew much. Thought much. Taught much. Man reaches to God.

"But God reaches to man," said the punk rock girl in the front row. 

"What do you mean?" He asked back.

She said, "You know, Jesus, the Son of God. The Savior of the Jews. God sent Him."

"Oh," he had heard of that one. 

He smiled a bit, but then he wept. Not because she was wrong, or right. He wept because he hadn't thought of it that way before. 

"In the game of life, survival is only part of the battle." 

Gad Saad