The young physician, moved by a great sense of passion, he went further and addressed God, though with an intended wild bitterness and anguish of his heart, but his spirit speak the words faster and piously that he could bring himself to understand.
He said “Oh God, if You were merciful, in Your illimitable might, You would cure this leper and return him to his family!
If You possessed only one quiver of human pity You would take from him his disease and make him whole.
Am I greater than You, more merciful than You?
I swear to You by all that I hold dear that if I could I would take upon me the lesions of this horror instead and flee forever to the desert, remembering that I have saved a man, his wife and his children.”
God, from His glorious abode, looked down upon him, His heart moved with great compassion, seeing a man, just a man, ready to wear the suffering of another man.
He, God, thought, “in their vilest state, my Love, a true Love, still reign in the heart of men. The Seed is there in their individual heart. They are still capable of love, and loving purely.”
Therefore, God chose to display His unfailing love towards . . .
The leprous man felt the hands on his shoulders, and it seemed to him that a strange and awful force emanated, like a cold and surging fire, from the physician’s fingers.
The force pervaded him, shattered along his bones, rippled over his flesh, made his back arch and his hair rose on his head. It was as if a lightening had struck him.
He thought, ‘I am dying!’
The moonlight faded from his sight and became blackness before his eyes.
“I am not God!” The physician cried from his heart.
“I am only a man. Therefore, I pity. Oh, be You merciful, God! Be You merciful!”
He caught the leper to his bosom and held him tightly, and HIS TEARS DROPPED OVER HIS CHEEKS AND FELL ON THE LEPER’S FOREHEAD.
Then the physician felt some tremendous virtue left him like the flowing blood, and a mysterious weakness made his body shake.
Gently, with trembling hands, he removed himself from the leper.
He said to the leper, “Take my mantle with its hood. Hide your face in it. Here are my sandals. Here is my purse, and my dagger. Go from the city and do not return. And if there is God, go in His peace.”
Completely unaware, of the divine intervention, his single act of selfless demonstration has wrath, he turned and stepped out into the stinking street and the stone cut into his feet.
Blinded with tears, he staggered away, sunk in grief and sorrow – for humankind, o how he love mankind.
The husband and wife looked at him and could not speak for bewilderment and gratitude. It seems to them that this man was a god.
For a long-time, the couple did not move or speak. They stood in the moonlight like carved statues of themselves, stricken dumb.
Then the wife approached her husband again with outstretched arms, and he held her off. “Unclean,” he murmured, and then let her see his face and arms clearly in the light.
She uttered a loud and piercing shriek, and then dropped down to the floor like a log of wood.
The man stared at his own arms and saw that they were whole and clean, without blemish.
Dazed, he turned them about and examined them, and there was no spot upon them.
He felt his own flesh as smooth as an infant’s flesh, filled with warm and full sensation.
He looked over through the path the physician had vanished. He dropped to his knees beside his fainting wife and lifted his hands in prayer . . . his own voice failed him!
Joy clogged his throat, he sobbed.
Overwhelmed with gratitude, all he could do was to lift up his wife unto his shoulder, homeward. For a certainty, he shall sleep under his own roof, surrounded by the warmth of his children and cuddle once more in the full embrace of his lovely wife.
The young physician, in his very moment of hopelessness, heightened hatred against his Maker, and unparalled pity for fellow mankind; was able to demonstrate a genuine love that cut across gender barrier, break through the veil of race, knitted through geographical disperse, a love that’s real as night and day . . . was able to touch the Divine, squeeze out the very milk of Love that only the Merciful Father can express.
MY SUBMISSION, I’ll say, God will not always strive against the spirit of MEN. And when God strives against the spirit of A MAN, it is for a most holy and mysterious purpose, and that purpose sometimes remains hidden from the man to the day of his death.