In a certain Judean desert place, five thousand men and women gathered to hear the Messiah speak.  The tone of His voice was not politically effusive, full of pretentious lyrics and lies, but it was the true rhetoric of love, and they could feel it.  To hear this man speak they endured desert conditions for hours without thought of food or water.  The sun painted redness on their faces as the Son of God painted crimson on their future.  They sat amongst the sage of the desert and listened to the divine Sage of deliverance.  The instrument of His teaching was that of a sharp sword, and it pierced the hearts of Israel with hope. The heat of the desert meant nothing.  The fire of eternal compassion touched them and that burned more powerfully than the circular furnace of the sky.

The attentive crowd had no bread in the wilderness, but they were content to digest the manna of Messiah.  They rose to great heights of frustration due to the leaven of the Pharisees.  Made to regard themselves in an inferior sense to those that studied the laws and acted as mirrors of Moses, chosen custodians to enforce religious legislation.  Made to scrounge a few scraps of encouragement out of the wasteful words of religious monarchs.  Made to view God as a commanding tyrant instead of the caring teacher they now saw before them.  Jesus, after all, was not a man who had to speak by delegated authority.  He spoke with Divine authority.

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