“You were a close friend of Jesus?”

“I was the fifth to be called by him after he began to teach in Capernaum, where I lived and worked.”

I purposely worded my next question as I did to test his reaction. “From what I’ve been told, I understand that you deserted your prosperous post of tax collector, to which you had been appointed by the tetrarch of Galilee, Herod Antipas, to go with Jesus. Why would any man abandon family, friends, and profession to run off with a penniless band of gypsies?”

The apostle stared at me with more disbelief than anger. Finally he began to chuckle, half to himself. “Matthias, certainly the source who has supplied you with the other facts about me must have also informed you that what you generously refer to as my profession is considered by our people to be a more sinful life than that of a harlot. I was not only a tax collector but the lowest of tax collectors, a little mokhes, which is the name of one who stands in the toll gate himself, rather than hire others to do his dirty work. By personally suffering the taunts and curses of all who passed, I was able to keep a larger percentage of the tolls before I remitted the balance to Herod, who in turn passed on a share to your emperor in Rome. Friends I had none, except my own family and other tax collectors from nearby.”

“But you were one of the wealthiest men in Capernaum.”

“Many of us pay too much for our gold. As a publican I was forbidden to bear my money to the Temple for any purpose. I was not allowed to serve as Judge, or even a witness, in any proceedings, and there is hardly a rabbi living who does not preach that repentance for publicans is a waste of time in the eyes of God.”

“Then why did you become a tax collector?”

He shrugged. “Who can say why we become what we are? Why do you write? For me, not competent in any craft or trade, tax collecting was a living.”

“How did you first come in contact with Jesus?”

“He had come to Capernaum alone, bringing with him a message of hope for our people the likes of which we had never heard. Sometimes he would speak in our small synagogue, but more often he was on the waterfront, from sunrise to sundown, teaching and comforting the poor and the sick of the harbor whose ignorance of the laws of Moses made them feel unworthy to enter our neighborhood house of God. One morning, when he was close by, I left my booth unattended and went to listen to him. The words he spoke, that day, changed my life forever.”

“His words had such power?”