In days gone by, it might have been said that Lev had had a vision, that he had been struck from his horse by the voice of God and seen the error of his ways. As it was, people said that he had gone a bit nutty in his old age, though it was unanimously agreed upon that it was the good sort of nutty he had gone. In actuality, Lev had simply realized he was going to die. Of course, he had always known that he would die someday, but someday had always been a long way off. Now, between the cough that stained all of his handkerchiefs red and the doctor’s offer to help him find a nice hospice, someday had begun to sound an awful lot like tomorrow.
Lev, always a clever bookkeeper and a savvy businessman, began to examine his own account with God, and he found himself deep in the hole, having done quite a bit more bad than good. His sins were mostly related to his business, the business he had always been so proud to have built from the ground up, to have kept afloat and profitable through boom years and bust years alike. But now he found himself recalling Bible passages that spoke against usury, that implored charity, that said things like what you do to the least of these you do to me, and he remembered taking a wedding ring from a crying widow, remembered selling it the day she failed to buy it back, remembered the way she had begged for more time, remembered the way he had shrugged and said, “I’m sorry, ma’am. Business is business.” He knew that shrug would see him cast down into Gehenna if he didn’t do something to make up for it.
