After we'd had our lunch and a short time to relax, Jesus was ready to give attention to the crowd and he wanted us with him.

We made our way through the press outside Peter's house and walked down by the lake. They all followed him, and he taught them as he continued walking from the lapping shores, and through the streets of the town. Something caught his eye and he stopped abruptly. A question was asked. Jesus didn't seem to hear. His eyes focused on a nearby building as if there was something curious about it. Beside the door there was a sign affixed to the wall. It read:

Jesus paused for the briefest of moments and then entered the door followed by as many as could squeeze in behind him. Among them was Asher, the rabbi from Jerusalem. Since the office handled the tribute of all of the residents in the region of Galilee, there were five or six workers, among them, a young Judean accountant.

They all stood in surprise at the intrusion, except one. He was a man in his mid-thirties, olive-skinned, beard neatly trimmed, wearing expensive clothes, Roman style, his neck draped in a golden chain and rings on several fingers.

He was Levi the Jew, the son of a man named Alphaeus. He was also known as Matthew to his friends. Levi had many friends. Oh, I don't suppose you could really call them friends. Levi traveled, you see. As regional supervisor, he went from tax office to tax office throughout the general length of Palestine, collecting tribute from the locations scattered about, intended for the government of Rome. His friends were of the type that gravitated to powerful people, rich people. And Levi was both powerful and rich. His authority bore the stamp of Rome and when he required tribute, he took it by force if necessary. He would not hesitate to use Roman militia for his purposes if the hapless payee was more than recalcitrant. Tax collectors were allowed one salient luxury: they were allowed to collect more tax than was actually due the government and pocket the excess. The Romans did not care. Levi, however, was losing his appetite for such chicanery. He had learned that wealth is its own empty reward and power a hollow trophy. He did not sleep well these days. He'd dream often of those he'd abused and longed for the simplicity and peace he'd known as a child.

The Jews, of course, hated Levi. The religious leaders particularly hated him. Asher, for example, thought Levi a beast, something less than a cockroach. He took funds, which, in the rabbi's view, properly belonged to the synagogue, which, in turn, was "taxed" by the Sanhedrin for the expenses of the Temple at Jerusalem (or so they said). Asher understood Levi, however, for they were not dissimilar in that both exploited weaker people.

Levi sat at his desk fingering the papyri logs on which were written the taxpaying history of the residents of Capharnaum. His eyes glanced at Jesus but came to rest on Asher. He smiled slightly as if mildly amused at seeing his old nemesis. Owing to Jesus' increasing fame, he also recognized him instantly, but was perplexed as to what to say or how to react to him. He at first thought of Jesus as yet another taxpayer, but then, without understanding why, dismissed the thought as absurd.

"Asher," spoke Levi, quietly ignoring Jesus for the moment, "to what do I owe this dubious pleasure? And why the rabble?"

"The rabble, as you put it, follows not me, publican, but him," pointing to Jesus. "Do you think for one moment that I would allow my shadow to fall upon your lintel? I'd rather swallow swine piss!"

Levi laughed at the rabbi's insult. "Somewhat disingenuous, Rabbi! I mean, after all, you are standing in my presence, in the office of Rome." He could easily have Asher put in prison for such an insulting remark, but would not, and Asher knew it. He continued his veiled taunt, "Since you are here with him, perhaps you, too, are one of his followers?" Levi risked another glance at Jesus. While the other workers in the tax office stood with apprehension, Levi had yet to rise from his place behind his table. His remark was intended to prick at Asher. Levi knew that Asher would never follow this gentle teacher. He knew intuitively that Asher was there merely to watch what would happen between himself and Jesus. About that he felt some concern. Without waiting for the rabbi to respond, he turned to Jesus and asked flatly, "Of what interest is this office to you, sir?"

"My interest is not in your office, Matthew," said Jesus, using the more familiar and informal name. "My interest is in you." He paused briefly and the effect of what he had said registered on the government official.

"You speak to me as if we were old friends," said Matthew rising from his desk at last. Somehow, the words of Jesus had felt to be more of an invitation than a simple declaration. "Have we met?"

"Matthew?" Again Jesus spoke his name. This time, he let the word hang as if it were a question, as if there were nothing else to say, as if it were the beginning and the end of a complete sentence. It was enough to know that for Matthew, it was indeed an invitation, a sweet comfort to hear his name on the lips of this man. Oddly, Jesus' voice provoked memories of his mother and her gentle care for him. The next sentence stunned the Roman bureaucrat. "Matthew, I wish you to come with me. I wish to instruct you in the ways of God. I wish you to be one of my followers."

Unsettled, the publican glanced first at Asher. The rabbi was utterly appalled at the scene; first, that Jesus would have anything to do with this monstrous Roman puppet, and second, that Matthew would be open to the impudence of this indigent prophet's overtures. He distanced himself from what was happening, receding toward the door. The tax official then turned back to Jesus whose eyes evenly connected with his and whose countenance and warmth were irresistible. He still held in his hand the papyri, the list of registrants which he had been examining before anyone had entered the Office of Tribute. It now fell to the floor from disinterested, and now uncaring hands. And then the official of the government of Rome came to Jesus, who put his arm around his shoulders and smiled, "Welcome."

The accountant watched as he observed his employer exit the building with this strange man. He, too, had been struck by the man's compelling demeanor. Unlike Matthew, who was a Galilean, the accountant had come from the town of Kerioth, in Judea, where he had acquired his trade from his father, Simon. Thoughtfully, he laid his writing instrument on his table and quietly followed as well.