Jesus on the 46A

Jesus was on the bus today. He got on the 46A at the stop at UCD. He scanned his bus pass and despite his advanced years, nimbly navigated the stairs to go to the upper deck, bag in hand. As he passed, people began to swear at him, move away, open windows, put their own bags on the seat near them so he wouldnāt sit near them. He stank strongly of urine and his clothes looked like they hadnāt been washed in months. āHe shouldnāt have been let on the busā, I hear a voice say behind me. āHe doesnāt look homelessā, another said. āIām going to be sickā, another said, as she rose, pressed the bell for the next stop and went down the stairs. Jesus was on the bus. He was sat two seats away from me and all others had moved away from around him. Part of me wanted to turn around and say, āitās okayā, the other part afraid to encounter the pain that might be in his eyes because of the reactions, the rejection and the judgement. Another part of me...