The bus reeked.
As I made my way to the back of the bus, the unbearable stench assaulted my senses and my eyes darted around, searching frantically for the cause.
It was a man.
He had on a raggedy, brown jacket, browned further by dirt. He wore a pair of dark blue shorts, the once-white stripes running along the sides yellowed and grimy. He nestled snugly in the corner of the bus, eyes closed and oblivious to the furtive stares and obvious discomfort of his fellow passengers.
I could not help but notice how his hair was matted and unkempt, how it seemed to cry out for a cut and a wash.
His feet.
Were they bloated because of his pudgy frame?
Or were they swollen of disease?
The purplish blots on his calves and shins, standing out from a background of crusted black, seemed to suggest that.
I sat down at the other end of the long seat at the back of the bus. I noticed how the lady sitting in front of the man pressed a piece of tissue paper tightly to her nostrils.
I nearly retched.
And then began the searching of my heart.
I heard my Father’s voice.
“What was your very first reaction to him?�
“I…I thought it wouldn’t be appropriate for me to get up and leave. I’m a Christian after all. And it would seem as though I had something against this man.�
“But did you want to leave?�
“Yes. Yes, I did. The odour. His smell. I wanted a comfortable bus ride. I wanted to read my Bible in peace without having to feel nauseous throughout the journey.�
“So why didn’t you leave?�
“Pride? A duty to suffer the not-so-fortunate? A noble obligation to the Great Unwashed? I don’t know.�
“Think.�
“I guess…I guess the first thing that came to my mind was how Jesus mostly spent his time with tax collectors, prostitutes, lepers – the very dregs of society.�
“What has that to do with you?�
“I am his disciple. It feels contrived to say this but I am. And if he deigned to spend what little time on earth with the scorned and rejected of society, who am I to walk away from this man just because he smells?�
“Go on.�
“I guess I remembered how he didn’t simply talk to them or fraternised with them out of noblesse oblige but he accepted the repentance of the tax collectors, he forgave and restored dignity to the prostitutes and he touched and held in his arms lepers who were unused to the warmth and comfort of human touch.�
“And at the heart of it?�
“At the heart of it, this was how he loved. This is how you love me. This is how you love us all.�
My heart was breaking.
“You who are holy. I imagined our sin, our maddening rebellion against you, our rotten desire to do things our way and not yours, to reek as much, well, more so, more than I could ever imagine, to you.�
Tears welled up in my eyes.
“Yet, the same hands that made the universe and flung the stars into their places were the same hands that held me, that still cling on to me even in my depraved and derelict state, in spite of my stench, and are the same hands that were pierced on the cross for my sake, for my sin, for my stench.
You loved me.
You love me.�
“This is why I sent my son. This is why he came. For one purpose, that you might know me and him in the everlasting intimacy of an embrace. He bore the stench, you know. He became sin. He became the stench. And it’s dealt with forever. And now…�
“And now I have to let others know. My brothers and sisters. My people. All whom you bring into my life.�
“Remember. Keep remembering. Then let others know.�
“Thank you so much, Father. These thanks aren’t enough but thank you anyway. Thank you.�
I looked over to the man.
His smell still made me nauseous.
But I started to pray for him anyway.
