This story is told from a third-person point of view from a variety of characters. When you see a line of diamonds and a character’s name, like this …

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– Point-of-view character’s name –

… that indicates the character who will next be telling their story.

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4. Neri

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– Neri –

 

“Hey Neri, where’s that sister of yours? Anna, right?”

I just glared at Caleb. We sat at the mouth of the canyon, the walls behind us lined with caves dug long ago in the limestone. The broad valley was spread out before us. There, at the border of the leper colony, we gazed at the outside world.

“Stay away from her,” I growled, trying to look as menacing as my weakness would allow.

“Neri, why don’t you just relax and make the most of the life you have?”

“Life!? What life? This is no life.” I stretched out my scarred legs and looked at the sores festering on my feet. It was getting harder to walk. Looking up, I stared without focusing at the large boulder marking the boundary—leprosy on this side, life on the other.

Then, I noticed movement at the far end of the valley. Someone had left the north-south road where the valley spilled into the plane, and the lone traveler was now following the path along the stream that meandered through the center of the valley.

“Hey Neri, tell me about one of those adventures of yours, before leprosy.”

Ah, life before leprosy. My mind lived back there most of the time anyway. “Okay. Well, here’s one you might enjoy. While traveling and spending most nights on the road, one evening with the sun beginning to fall below the horizon, three outlaws burst out of the shadows as I took my first bite of a roasted hare.” I glanced again down the valley. The stranger continued walking up the path.

“Yeah, yeah, what happened next?” I turned to find Caleb’s face inches from mine. I shoved him away and turned back to watch the stranger in the valley.

“Well, death breath, the outlaws stood with their backs to the sun, silhouettes of clubs in their hands. Yet I was happy to pit my hammer and chisel against their wooden clubs.”

“Hammer and chisel?”

“Listen mutton brains, I’ve told you before, I used to be a stonecutter. Now, do you want to hear this story, or not?”

“Fine, fine. Just curious.”

“Anyway, I stood up, hammer in my right hand, chisel in my left …”

I stared again at the approaching stranger. Could it be? Hmm. By the time I finished telling my story, the person in the valley was moments away.

“So what happened to the other two?”

“They just squirmed on the ground like wounded worms.”

I could now see that the stranger carried a large sack over her shoulder. Caleb was watching her too. She soon left the path and headed up the trail toward the boulder.

“Is that your sister?”

“Caleb, you need to go back to your cave, now.”

“No, I like it here.”

“If you don’t leave, I’ll have to hurt you.” Caleb chuckled at my empty threat, stood, leered at Anna as she approached the boulder, then shuffled away.

“Hello Dusty,” I called, as she stopped at the boulder and lowered the sack to the ground. It landed with a thud.

Anna normally sat on a stone during her visits, in the afternoon shade of the boulder. But that day, she paced, never sitting. She looked charged with an energy, a lightness, maybe excitement mixed with nervousness. I hadn’t seen her look that way for a long time.

“Neri, how are you feeling today?” There was a light melody in her voice, almost like she was singing.

“Well, nothing has fallen off since you—”

“Stop! Or I’ll leave.” Hmm, this wasn’t the timid Anna I’d grown up with. Something had changed, or so it seemed.

“Okay, fine,” I smirked. “I feel okay, for a wretch with leprosy. How about you little sister? Something’s happened. What is it?”

“Neri,” she paused and glanced over her shoulder, “have you heard of a man called Yeshua, a man from God, a man who can heal sickness?”

“Of course. We get all those fantasy tales here, tales of magical healing. What have you heard? Is there really such a man, or is it just another cruel joke?”

“Joke? How could you say such a thing about Yeshua?” Anna glared at me. “Listen, he’s more than a healer, more than a magician. And he’s more than a man sent by God. I believe he is God. In a man’s body, I mean.”

Yes, something had changed with Anna. “Now why would you believe a foolish thing like that?”

“Because he showed me himself—he showed me love. Like the love and compassion that father always had. But more. I felt his presence inside my head, like he was really there. Neri, God spoke to my mind, and I think deeper, to my soul. God spoke to me through Yeshua.”

Okay, this was getting weird. “God spoke to you? Really? What did he say? Does he have a big, booming voi—”

“Stop! Are you going to listen or just be an idiot? Look, my mind and heart felt his presence inside me, speaking without sound. And not with words I can repeat or explain, but with feelings, with humility, with love, and … forgiveness. He forgave me. Neri, God forgave me! I felt it. And only later did it hit me. What I felt was more than thoughts and feelings, but God’s presence, his actual presence, within me.”

“Is God still there?”

“Well, no, I don’t think so. I don’t know, maybe. Listen, I came here to tell you that Yeshua healed my soul. He can heal you too.”

“Okay. But healing your soul and healing my body is not the same—”

“If you want to sit there and slowly rot, well, fine.”

“Dusty, relax.”

“Don’t tell me to relax, you miserable mass of rotting flesh.” Wow, that was a good one. “Look, Yeshua healed Jared’s son, he was really sick and …”

I was only partly listening as Anna chattered on. Could this Yeshua be the real thing, more than a fantasy? What would it be like to be healthy again, to be strong again? But even if he could heal me, would he? After all, my disease was punishment for some past evil I must have committed. Well, it didn’t matter. Willing or not, I’d decided what to do.

“Dusty.”

“… came running back down the path to the town …”

“Oh, Annnnaaa.”

“… heard his son had been healed the day before …”

“ANNA!”

“… so see … huh? What?”

“You can stop telling me about Jared’s son. I’ll go find Yeshua.”

“You will? Oh, well … good.” Then, looking down at the sack at her feet, she said, “I brought you fresh cloths and some food. You should leave soon. Do you think you’re strong enough? Yeshua left our town heading south. If you hurry—”

“Dusty! I’ll leave tonight.”

“Oh … okay. Great.”

“Now tell me, how’s Jared?” I missed Jared. He’d been like a big brother to Anna and me.

“Jared’s good, now that his son is cured. He gave me the idea that Yeshua might heal you. He wanted to come today but, well … you know.”

“Dusty, you should come with me.”

Anna stared at her toe drawing circles in the dust. Mumbling to herself, she then turned and started down the path.

“Anna, it would be too dangerous to travel with me, but you could follow.”

She stopped and turned halfway toward me. “I want to go, I truly do. But, well … no.” She looked toward the end of the valley as if afraid to find someone had followed her. Then, glancing back at me she added, “Neri, get word to me, after you see Yeshua. Remember, he’s following the road to Jerusalem. I love you, and … goodbye.” She turned and scurried down the path.

I picked up the sack, which was surprisingly heavy, and hobbled back to my cave. Hmm, the road to Jerusalem. Her town was along that road. I wished I’d gotten her name.

 

Later, just as the sun set, I snuck back to the boulder. The leather sack with my stone-cutting tools hung over my shoulder—bless Anna for not selling them as I’d told her to. From my other shoulder hung the freshly filled water skin and the bag with food. I reached in my tool sack, pulled out the large hammer, and hefted it. It was heavier than I’d remembered. Yet somehow, the feel of it helped my resolve. With hammer in hand, I stepped past the boulder and left the leper colony behind.

By the time I reached the north-south road, where the stream emptied into the plane beyond the valley, the failing sunlight was replaced by the dim light of a quarter moon. Not long after taking the southward way, my calves started cramping. Staggering to a tree, I hugged the trunk and lowered myself to the ground. I grabbed my calves and did my best to squeeze out the knots.

Pulling myself to my feet, I followed the road as it snaked through the hills. The going was slow, and more painful than I’d expected. When I reached the crossroad where the lefthand way dropped down to our town, I stopped. I was tempted to get Anna. Also temped to quit.

 

A couple of hours later, the moon dropped below the horizon. With the deeper darkness, I was no longer certain of what was road, and what wasn’t. Suddenly I tripped and crashed into a boulder. My arm ached as I pushed myself to my knees. Reaching in the sleeve of my cloak, I felt the blood seeping down my forearm.

I sat with my back to the boulder and contemplated what to do next. Quit? Sleep until sunrise? No, neither of those were my style. I struggled to my feet, gripped my forearm to stem the bleeding, and walked on.

As I limped down the road, the darkness eventually lifted, and light began seeping into the eastern sky. I left the road and collapsed in a gully. Reaching into the sleeve of my cloak, I discovered my arm was still bleeding. I gripped the gash and fell asleep.

 

I woke shortly after midmorning. Crawling to the rim of the gully and wincing through the stiffness and pain, I scanned the road. All looked quiet. I crept out of the gully and hobbled down to the road, hoping the hazards of the day were less dangerous than those of the night. Having pulled the hood of my cloak close around my face, I buried my hands in my sleeves, and prayed I wouldn’t meet anyone. If someone recognized my leprosy … well, at worst they might stone me to death.

Sometime past midday I approached a village I recognized. Where the road went through the village, I followed a trail that went around it, rejoining the road on the other side. After that, the going was slower. My energy was fading. Before darkness set in, I left the road and collapsed behind some trees.

 

The next day, back to the road. Time unknown. Stumbling on, strength almost gone, will almost gone, vision fuzzy, breathing shaky, painful. Oh, what was I doing? Where was I going? Heart pounding in my ears. Terror smothering me. I looked around and there, behind me, was a mob with clubs and stones. I tried to run, but fell. Then, lifting my face from the dirt, I looked back. The mob was gone.

I’d experienced hallucinations before, but that was due to something I’d eaten, or drank. Maybe food could keep them away. I crawled to a tree, waited until my breathing slowed, and though I had no appetite, I ate more of the food Anna had given me.

Later, not sure when, I struggling to stroll rather than limp through the gate of a town. I tried not to look how I felt, like a prowling criminal. But wrapped in my cloak, I had a slight chance of avoiding notice. Following the main road through the town, I came to the square and found people packed in like fish in a basket. Then I saw why—on the synagogue steps stood a man matching the description Anna had given me. It was Yeshua.

All were quiet as they listened to him speak of forgiveness and love. But I heard more than that below the surface of his words. I heard rebellion. His words were challenging the religious establishment. He was either foolish, brave, or just spoiling for a fight.

Suddenly, two men appeared beside me, staring at Yeshua, and thankfully ignoring me. “He’s leaving tomorrow morning, for Jerusalem,” one man said, tugging at his beard. “That’s what I heard, from one of those fishermen.”

“Jerusalem?” the other man replied, wringing his hands, “He’s certain to stir up a fuss there.”

“He won’t last long, not the way he talks,” the first man snorted. “Jerusalem will chew him up.”

Anna had been right, Jerusalem. I crept to the south gate and spent the night at the base of the crumbling wall, now certain that I’d made the right decision, and with an even stronger desire to be healed.

 

I woke to a rooster that sounded like someone was choking it. I ate the last of the bread and then hobbled to where the road passed through the gate in the wall. Yeshua would have to walk right by me on his way out of town. Exhausted, I no longer tried to hide my leprosy. I felt it didn’t matter anymore.

As the town woke, people began passing in and out of the gate. When they saw me, they gasped and hastily crossed to the other side of the road, trying to stay as far from me as they could. Some held their breath, some hurled insults. I was just glad they didn’t hurl stones.

One man, deep in thought, didn’t notice me until he was only two paces away. Startled, he almost fell in his mad scramble to get away. From under the hood of my cloak I smiled. Poor fool. But I couldn’t fault him his effort at self-preservation.

The waiting brought back familiar thoughts and worries. Our religious leaders declared that leprosy was God’s way of punishing me for something. But what? I couldn’t think—my mind felt as numb as my feet. Then, the road in front of me blurred. My head flopped from one side to the other, then fell back and smacked the wall. Blinking and rubbing my head, I gave up and dozed off once more.

 

My mind wanted to hold onto that numb peaceful place that lives somewhere between sleep and consciousness. But I felt a need to wake up. As the haze lifted, I sensed a shadow fall over me. I forced open my eyes and saw the silhouette of a man, tall and lean, with short hair and a full beard. The sun blazed behind his head. As I squinted at him, he took a step closer, gazed down at me, and smiled. It was Yeshua.

I felt lost and confused at finding him standing so close and unafraid. But thankfully my mouth remembered what I had rehearsed. “Sir,” I whispered, “if you are willing, you can make me clean.”

Feeling a mixture of fear and shame, I dropped my head and closed my eyes. In that moment, I felt the full weight of my leprosy—the doom, the anger, the fear, the hopelessness. Would Yeshua give me my deepest desire? Would he heal me and free me from a slow death?

Then, I felt his hand grip my shoulder and gently squeeze. What!? For the first time since the marks of leprosy became visible, a person touched me. And with that touch, Yeshua gave me what I needed most, what I needed more than healing, what I hadn’t even realized I needed. At the risk of his own health, he gave me a compassion that was more than words. I felt a sense of peace I’d never felt before. I slowly lifted my head to see his wide smile and sparkling eyes. “I am willing,” he then said. “Be clean.”

Starting from where his hand rested on my shoulder, a tingling energy rushed through my bones and muscles. I dropped my tear-filled eyes to my hands, then my feet. The leprosy was gone! I pulled back the sleeve of my cloak—the gash on my arm was gone, healed, as if it had never been there.

I felt a firmer squeeze on my shoulder, a shoulder now also firm and strong. There was more than compassion in that squeeze—there was a message. “Come, follow me,” Yeshua murmured. He then turned and walked out the gate.

I watched him stroll down the road, a band of followers trailing behind. Then, new hands touched me. I looked up to see Anna as she caressed my cheek. Without a word, she sat beside me and we wept.

“Dusty, you came,” I finally said as the tears subsided. “Why?”

Anna blew her nose on the sleeve of my tunic. “I … I needed you, I guess … and him.” She gazed down the road at Yeshua.

“Dusty, I must warn you—there might be danger in following Yeshua. Maybe you should go back home.”

“What!?” Anna grabbed my beard and pulled my face close to hers. “I thought you wanted me to follow you!”

“Okay, fine,” I said, prying her fingers loose.

“Besides,” she grinned, “there’s no home to go back to.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, once I’d decided to follow you, I feared I might lose my courage and change my mind. So before I left, I set my hut on fire.” I laughed. Maybe Anna and I were more alike than I’d realized.

Looking past Anna, I spotted three men, hands on their hips, glaring down the road. The one with the priestly looking garb spoke, not caring who heard him. “Now I’ve seen the blasphemy for myself,” he growled. “By Satan he casts out demons and heals the sick. The Chief Priest and our leaders in Jerusalem have known about this man for two or three years. He’s been going around disrespecting our traditions, breaking the Sabbath, cavorting with sinners, and even claiming to be the son of God!” He tugged hard on his beard.

“We must get word to the ruling counsel,” one of the other men hissed. “We must warn them he’s on his way there. Something must be done.”

They all turned and began marching back toward the center of the town. “They’ve been warned,” the priestly one muttered. “And, something will be done.”

“See? There’s danger down that road.” I said, glancing toward the gate. “Are you still sure you want to come?”

“Try and stop me.”

“It might be dangerous for us too.”

“I don’t care. I’m going. What about you? Afraid?”

“Hey, listen, if those religious men want to harm Yeshua, they’ll have to deal with me first.”

“Good. Then let’s go.”

“But it’ll be hard-going,” I said. “I have no money, no food.”

“Oh Neri,” Anna replied. “I’ve been saving money for years, though I never was sure what for. Until now.”

Though I appreciated her resourcefulness, I felt uneasy about spending her money, especially knowing how she’d came by that money. Damn. That thought filled me with shame, but I decided to think about it later. Still unsteady from all the emotion, I pushed myself to my feet. I’d forgotten how good it felt to be healthy and strong. As I grabbed Anna’s hand, we took a step toward the gate.

“Wait!” Anna let go of my hand and hollered toward a row of large pottery jars, “Ben!”

A small face poked up from behind a jar, and then a dust-covered boy emerged and scampered over. He collided into Anna, hugging her legs, almost knocking her over. Grabbing my arm to steady herself, she said, “Ben, this is your uncle Neri. You two can be friends.”

Ben let go of Anna and leapt at me. I pulled him up to my chest, my strength surprising me. Ben grabbed my ears, pulled, and smashed his nose into mine. “Hi unca Neri,” he said. Then he squirmed until I lowered him to the ground.

“Alright Ben, my little dust dervish,” I said with a chuckle. “Let’s go.”

As we passed through the gate, Anna took Ben’s hand and they skipped off down the road. I smiled and fell in behind them. Pulling the large hammer out of my tool sack, I twirled it in my hand. Its now-familiar weight felt reassuring, like old times. It gave me comfort and a sense of power. I might need that on the road ahead. Yeshua was going directly into the mouth of the lion. I was determined to be a part of that fight.

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