Dives' Brother

A blessing on you, Brother Dives! May your
Beard be ever longer and your pockets full.
But say! What means a face like that? You'd think
Your wine had all turned sour in the vat.
Is the market down Caesarea once again?
Or has your favorite donkey sprained its hoof?
Come, now--the eldest of our family
Can't face the world with hangdog face like that.
We'd lose all credit in the market.

What?
That beggar at your gate just passed away?
Old--Lazarus--was it?--he's finally gone?
For that you give me eyes so hard and cold?
I would rejoice if I were you. And say:
“Good riddance of bad rubbish.” So he's gone
(May Heaven now have mercy on his soul)
And we are free of him at last. I've said
You never should have let him beg right there--
A wreck, a wretch, with scarce a ragged right
To cling to life--sore stricken with those sores
(The curse of God, no doubt). If he had tried
That game at my gate, I'd have given alms
Which he'd not like and other sores than those.

I'm sure I've told you twenty times, at least--
It was a shame to let him linger there.
It's bad for business to have an eyesore here.
Remember last month, at your Sabbath dinner? Why,
You had all the best men from Jerusalem
And there that dirty beggar moaning at the gate--
They saw him as they came, I know. Recall
How they all looked disgusted at the sight?
I passed it all off as a joke: “He is
A son of Abraham--he has possessed
The gate (saith Moses) of his enemy.”
How Annas laughed at that. And even dour
Gamaliel almost cracked a smile.

No.
Dives, I beg you, do not look so blue.
(Come, send your slave--we need some wine) I'd say
We should rejoice he's gone from us for good.
He nearly ruined us by begging there.

Perhaps--perhaps there's truth to what they say.
Is that why you are sulking like a boy?
Because they say he simply starved away?
Because, mayhaps, a few more crumbs of yours
Could, say?, have let him live another day?
Brother, this simply isn't like you. Why,
The six of us would all be poor as him
If we allowed ourselves to pine and grieve
For every beggar in Judea. Come--
So he was poor? And helpless by disease?
Was that your fault? Did you create the plague
That plagued him?--steal the wealth he didn't have?
Was he your son, your brother? Then why care
That he was poor and ill? I don't deny
You could have given him some comfort--but
To what an end? The poor are not like us.
Men like him are used to hunger, so much
That they can scarcely feel its pang--too low
To fall, too shamed to know the string of shame.
What do you think you could have done? Brought him
Into your house and given him a home?
No, Dives, crumbs and alms are fine--but more
Would only (trust me) have confused the wretch
Like sudden sunlight striking startled eyes.
Why, like as not his head it would have swelled
And burst like rotten fruit. As Agur saith:
“Nor poverty nor riches give me, Lord,
But feed me with convenient food.” (Where is
That servant with the wine?) No, Dives, no--
No good can come of thoughts like these.

You what!?
You must be joking, brother. Or the sun
Has struck your brain. Repent? A man like you?
A man respected by Jerusalem?
A man of business, with the trust of men
His only asset? You would ruin yourself
And all of us, as well. Repent of what?
Because one beggar died outside your gate?
Because, perhaps, you could have saved his life?
This is sheer madness. No one could blame you--
Were you his keeper? No? Then why feel guilt?
An extra gold piece to the beggar at
The temple gate would be all right--or, say,
A sacrifice (call it a thanks' offering).
Nobody would object to that if it
Would make you feel at ease. (It's quite “the thing.”)
But any more than that... Repent? Confess? 
The thought alone just makes my stomach turn.
A public penance from a man like you?
Have you turned radical? A little faith--
“Morality tinged emotion”--fine--
It's good for business and the company's
Standing in Jerusalem. But this--
No, this is something else. We'd be the jest
Of every mouth in town--the temple too--
Repent? It simply isn't done. You'll bring
Yourself to ruin--and the five of us
Would be all ruined with you. Begging for
Our bread like Lazarus.

Ah! here's the wine!
We'll talk no more of this, my brother. No,
Repentance might have done all right for him--
A beggar ruins no one by his sins,
And no one more by his repentance--but
It will not do for men like me and you.
Religion is made for the world to come,
But we have first to live in this. Come, now--
A toast! A toast to Lazarus--why not?
May angels carry him to Abraham's side
Or anywhere that is far from your gate.
The poor must look to God to be their help.
But Dives and his brothers take care of
Themselves. May Heaven receive his soul. Amen.

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