"My Best Friend, Jesus" (Chapter 5: Roman Child, Part One)

“Is that whom you wish your Messiah to be?”

Sep 13, 2023

Welcome to SUCH FRIENDS, a new fictional series on my Substack platform, Massé Musings (markhmasse.substack.com). This week’s story (“Roman Child,” Part One) is from my young adult religious collection, “My Best Friend, Jesus.” Hope you enjoy the read.

“My Best Friend, Jesus” (Chapter 5: Roman Child, Part One)

“Is that whom you wish your Messiah to be?”

I was named for an uncle I never knew because he was murdered by a Roman legionary before I was born. I have always felt love for my uncle Ethan and hate for that soldier who slay Nazarene men for daring to throw rocks at the invaders marching by our village. Every autumn we commemorate my uncle’s death by visiting his grave in a small grove of olive trees on the outskirts of Nazareth.

This year my parents asked Jesus to join the rabbi with prayers at the gravesite. Afterward I thanked him for his comforting words. I said he helped uncle Ethan’s spirit stay strong in all our hearts. As usual during this commemoration of a life cut tragically short, my parents and other adults wept and hugged one another.

“Why are you not crying, Ethan?” Jesus asked me. “Are you not grieving?”

“Yes, I am sad,” I said. “But you and I never knew my uncle in the flesh. I can’t have the same feelings as our parents do.”

“That is true,” he said. “But why do you have such hatred for other men you never knew? The Romans who killed your uncle.”

“How can you ask such a question? We Jews have hated our occupiers for centuries. We hate the Romans as we did the Babylonians, and as we justly hated the Egyptians who enslaved Moses, Aaron and our ancestors before the Exodus. Are you saying you do not hate the Romans? Are you not a proud Jew who wishes our people to be free?”

“We will never be free as long as we have hatred in our hearts,” Jesus said, staring at me so intensely I had to turn away.

Later we walked back to our village.

“Someday soon, I hope, our Messiah will come and liberate all of Israel. He will come on a golden chariot as a warrior king. And he will free us all.”

“Is that whom you wish your Messiah to be?” Jesus asked.

“It is not what I wish, it is what has been prophesied,” I replied. “We all know this. The Messiah will be braver than David and more fierce a fighter than Joshua. He will lead us to victory over our enemies. Then he will unite all the tribes of Israel.”

The more I spoke, the quieter Jesus became. He walked with his head down as if in deep reflection. We were near home when he stopped and placed both hands on my shoulders.

“I want to you to meet someone,” he said softly.

“OK,” I said. “But we both know everyone in the village. Who is it you want me to meet?”

“Come,” he said, and we veered off the main road and went instead into a desolate area in the hills west of Nazareth where no people lived. The area was barren of almost all vegetation and any flowing water. It was said to be haunted by wild beasts.

“This is an evil place,” I said as we drew close to what looked like a cave ahead of us. “Why bring me here?”

For the first time in all the years I had known Jesus, I felt fear when I stood near him. Was he possessed by dark spirits? Did he intend to harm me? I knew he disagreed when I spoke of my hatred for the Romans, but why was he taking me so far from Nazareth?

I let him walk a few steps ahead, and, when his back was turned, I picked up a hefty rock and slipped it in the sleeve of my tunic. I hoped I wouldn’t have to use the rock to defend myself. But I had to be prepared just in case.

I caught up with Jesus, who was walking more briskly now, his eyes focused on the cave carved into the hillside ahead of us. Gray clouds dotted the sky, and the wind intensified. The harvest moon appeared above the horizon.

“Why are we here? It is almost night,” I said. “We should head back to Nazareth. Our parents will be concerned, for we told no one where we were going.”

“Be at peace, Ethan,” Jesus said. “No need for fear. No need for that rock you have up your sleeve.”

“How did you … oh, never mind,” I said. “This rock will protect us from any wild animals that may be in that cave.”

Jesus turned and shook his head.

“Oh, you of little faith, Ethan. Always so full of fear. Always preparing to fight. Always ready to hate.”

“And you are like a lamb. Meek and mild. I must protect both of us, my friend. That is why I am always prepared to fight. You should thank and not condemn me.”

“Come, I want you to meet someone,” Jesus said, putting his arm around my shoulder as we stood at the cave entrance.

“What are you talking about? There is no one living here. Is this one of your tricks? One of your delusions?”

Again Jesus shook his head and sighed.

“Oh, Ethan.”

He left me and walked into the darkness.

“Where are you going? Wait. Let me come with you.”

I thought of joining him, but I hesitated. If Jesus was possessed by the devil, then who knew what evil lurked in that darkened space. I knelt down and peered into the cave, trying to see something, anything. In my right hand I clutched the rock.

While I was kneeling, I heard the rustling of garments and footsteps approaching. Then Jesus appeared carrying someone in his arms. Was it a child? No, it was an old woman, tiny and frail, only her wrinkled gray face was visible, for she was wrapped in several layers of cloth.

“I want you to meet Claudia,” Jesus said, placing the woman gently on the ground in front of me. “And this is my friend Ethan.”

###

NOTE: To access more of my fiction and nonfiction, please visit my Authors Guild website: www.markmasse.com & https://www.amazon.com/author/mhmasse