“. . .he saw a man, called Matthew, sitting at the place of toll: and he saith unto him, Follow me. And he arose, and followed him.”

When Matthew, the former tax collector, held a banquet In Jesus’ honor, his old friends, the Pharisees, were appalled at the guest list.

“Why eateth your Teacher with the publicans and sinners?” they asked.

Of course, Jesus knew with whom He was eating. He also knew all of us are sinners, capable of doing great good as well as great evil. Moved by Matthew’s change of heart, and wanting to celebrate His conversion, Jesus came to the banquet.

When He heard about the Pharisees’ criticism, He responded by saying, “They that are whole have no need of a physician, but they that are sick.”

Once again, Jesus demonstrated how willing He is to forgive. At His banquet table, every saint has a past and every sinner has a future.

The Pharisee could not grasp the possibility of such infinite mercy and forgiveness.  As they left, the banquet they wondered among themselves, “What manner of man is this?”

What manner of man is this? It’s a question that might be asked of us, too. How do others see us: as a saint or as a sinner?

In Jesus’ case, that question has challenged every artist who has ever attempted to capture His likeness on canvas. None has been more successful than Leonardo DaVinci in his painting of The Last Supper (another banquet scene), which adorns the Sistine chapel.

According to legend, the first figure that DaVinci painted was Jesus Himself. Hundreds of young men throughout Rome applied for the honor with the winner being a young baker chosen because his countenance revealed the compassion, strength and grace of Jesus.

The entire fresco took three years to complete as DaVinci painted first one apostle and then another.

Finally, the great master came to the last figure, Judas Iscariot, the betrayer. He chose as his model a cut- throat murderer awaiting execution in a Roman dungeon. The man’s face, hardened by greed and despair, seemed to capture the essence of Judas’ spirit. Dragged from his prison cell by the guards, the man sat sullenly as DaVinci painted him.

Finally, the artist put down his paintbrush and said to the guards, “I have finished with him. You may take him away.”

But as the jailers took hold of the man, a tear rolled down his cheek. “Master,” he said to DaVinci, “after all this while, do you not recognize me?”

“Recognize you?”DaVinci asked.

“Three years ago,” the prisoner said, “I was the model for your figure of the Christ.”

There is no telling whether the story is true. But there can be no doubt about the underlying truth of its message: within each one of us there exists a tremendous potential for good and evil. At times, we may appear almost Christ-like and at other times like the Devil himself. But, always, Jesus keeps calling us to follow Him. How we respond to His call will ultimately decide the answer to the question: what manner of man or woman is this?