The House Of Joy

The city in Hebrew meant Golden Cradle. It stood along the caravan route between Luxor and Babylon. Many passed through its gates awed by its fabled wealth. The city had many attractions but what attracted these foot-weary strangers above all was the House of Joy. It belonged to a merchant prince who entertained in style. They found comfort and hospitality under his roof. The host knew most of them would never come back; still he did not cut corners. His lavish style was such some wondered, “Incredible for a merchant to throw his money away?” But the prince knew his fame spread as far as these strangers went.
One evening one Belshazzar by name came in but would not eat. The host pressed him to try various dishes but he excused himself that his appetite was killed by a sight which was before his line of vision. “I can see the fellow lying there, from where I sit.”
“So what, let him.” Mumbled his companion and went on gnawing at a chicken leg. “ I see now dogs licking at his sores.” The stranger almost threw up disgusted.
“Oh Lazarus, he makes himself obnoxious. One gets used to it with time,” commented the host with a smile.
He got up and left as fast as he could. Later when another stranger extolled the hospitality of the prince Belshazzar thought of Lazarus. He felt disgust and he made it very plain to the other. The one who was so taken in by hospitality at the House of Joy observed, “Well, it would seem we are talking altogether of two different things.” Yes they were.
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