In an ancient middle eastern village a leper took up his usual place. He sat on his tattered carpet with a tin cup waiting for whatever would clink from the passersby of his little world. He stayed there from dawn to dusk, no matter what the weather. His meal that night would depend on what he received for the day.
A self-righteous person had a noticeably unpleasant expression on his face as he looked at the leper. He walked this way often, and this wasn’t the first time he had seen the leper, sometimes saying under his breath, “Lazy bum; why don’t you get a job like the rest of us. If I was in your shoes, I’d find some kind of job, even becoming a slave.” Continue reading Compassion and the Leper