Matt tells his story

My name is Matt, but they call me “Levi” – like the jeans. This is a little ironic since I have to wear a suit every day. I have a very good job with the IRS in my country, but few friends. One, actually. My family is very religious and I follow the family tradition, but “at a distance”, a great distance. My situation… well, how can I explain this… it’s just that a civil servant like myself, it isn’t easy for me to practice my faith.

I pay a very high price for this job – they call me “collaborationist” – it sounds bad, I know. But, the occupying government isn’t so bad. Look at the quality of the roads! And finally now there is drinking water and even sewers in a few quarters, like mine for example. All this, and the majority continue complaining. And for a “traitor” like myself, they don’t even leave me in peace when I go to the temple to pray. So, I don’t go any more. How can I go to the services only to have to put up with cold stares and serve as an easy target for the sermon of whatever priest is on call? It’s impossible to think about God in this situation.

And now I don’t exist as far as my family is concerned. So, I live alone with my spouse – my salary. And with my children: those extra payments from various businessmen who I have helped find generous hidden deductions on their sales tax obligations.

It was Wednesday; a day with few consults given that it was neither end-of-the-month nor end-of-the-week. In comes a thirty-something country boy, and I can tell right away he hasn’t a cent on him. The front office gals have their instructions not to let this kind through, but here he is at my desk – what can I do?

His accent gives him away; he’s a hick from the north and there’s a light smell of fish gut. I hope he realizes that here we accept only hard cash, none of those payments “in kind”. He looks me over like someone who knows me, and knows me well. But, with some differences. For example, without that critical look I always get. It’s as if I were really important to him, somehow.

I know this man! This is that guy who’s been wandering around talking up a new religion – as if he were some kind of special agent sent from God. Well, it’s true I wouldn’t mind getting the clergy off my back, and the endless rituals – and find some way that at least God would accept me. It’s true: this job is the only thing I value in this world – and I would leave it in an instant if there were a hope of starting again, of being at peace with God, or having a family that loved me…

“Follow me.”

He didn’t say anything else. He stood up to leave and paused in the door. He looks back at me, expectantly. If I leave this job, they will find someone else in a couple of days. And then there are those extra payments waiting for me in the back office under the rug. I stand up; I can hear my heart increase the rhythm. Time itself seems to stop to catch a breath, and then holds it.

(Levi continues telling his experience in a book of the Bible that carries his own name, Matthew.)