Agnus Dei : A Short Story by Bill Roberts (Jewel)

The boy and his father had spent the morning climbing up into the small, rocky hills surrounding their village. They were on a mission, olive wood was needed for a set of drinking cups that the father had been commissioned to make. There were some wild olive groves near the crest of the hill before them and they scrambled up the stony hillside in the morning sunlight.

Reaching the top, the boy?s father smiled as he surveyed the nearest grove.

?These should work.?

He began tapping his knuckles against some of the thicker branches of the nearest tree, listening. The boy went to a nearby tree and began tapping also, imitating his father?s motions. He loved his father and wanted to be just like him someday. The boy had just turned seven.

He saw other, larger trees to his left and trotted over to them.

?Father, there are some good ones over here!? he exclaimed, excitedly.

?Um hum. Good work son. Don?t go far.?

The boy continued from tree to tree, tapping on the trunks, smiling and nodding as he found larger and older trees. Good wood here, he thought to himself. He continued on for another ten minutes or so. Suddenly a clearing opened to his left. He noticed a small path leading up to the clearing, winding up the hill below him. He wondered why they hadn?t taken that path to get to the top of this hill.

The boy stepped out into the small, rocky area of the clearing. There was a smell here that he did not like, and yet he was curious. Standing nearby was a set of large dark poles, unevenly spaced. He realized that this was where the smell came from. He heard the buzzing of flies. He stood still for a moment, his arms hanging limp by his side. He felt that he knew this place.

The smell hung heavier in the air as he walked slowly up to the nearest pole. It was roughly-hewn. Could have used some smoothing, he thought to himself. Father and I could smooth this wood. He examined the pole, unconsciously mimicking the practiced carpenter?s eye of his father. He noticed that there were dark streaks running down the pock-marked wood of the pole. A fly was feeding on one of the streaks a few inches from his eye. He shooed the fly away as he noticed some large, rusty nails lying in the dusty ground near his feet.

He reached out to touch the pole. At its touch a tingle ran down his spine and a brightness appeared around the periphery of his vision. He could almost hear the wings rustling around him. He knew something big was about to happen, something he hadn?t seen before. He laid his palm flat on the pole and closed his eyes. And in that moment he was overwhelmed. He felt the presence of his unseen friends.

Dark images flashed before him. Things he had never before seen or even imagined. Hateful faces sneering and mocking. A cloudy sky overhead, flecked with lightning, shouts of anger, cursings. And blood, blood dripping everywhere. He saw terrible things that he did not yet have a name for. And a slowly growing burden - he felt it as he sunk to his knees, sliding his hand down the pole. The burden became very heavy. He bowed his head, fighting back tears, and remained kneeling for several minutes. The images continued to swirl: crying faces, loneliness, hunger, exhaustion, cruel laughter, murder, betrayal. The images thrust themselves up before him, rising in ramparts like a vast mountain. He gasped and shut his eyes more tightly. Blood, there was blood everywhere. The wind blew through his dark hair and he could almost hear the rustling of wings in it.

His hand hurt, and he opened his eyes to look at it. Two dark splinters were sticking out of the skin, and a small trickle of blood was running from one of them. He bit his lip as a single tear escaped. He carefully pulled the splinters out, and more fresh blood trickled from the two small wounds. It was not the first time he had felt the sting of a splinter, and he looked forward to the day when his hands would be as hard and calloused as his father?s. He sucked on his hand and tasted the blood as he continued to kneel quietly, almost hearing the wings. They were comforting him as peace washed over him, and he could feel the holiness of this moment, and the worship and honor flowing over him. He knew that they knelt too, all around him for leagues perhaps, bowed before him and ministering to him. He was at peace. He was on holy ground, and he was home.

Yeshua.

As he knelt he tilted his head back, eyes closed, and raised his hands, a trickle of blood running down his arm. He loved his Father and wanted to be just like Him some day

Yes Father.

My Yeshua.

His peace was complete. He slowly lowered his head, and became aware that he was being called.

?Yeshua!?

It was his father.

?Yeshua! Come here!?

The boy started. Joseph had been calling to him and he hadn?t heard. Joseph rushed up to him, eyes full of concern.

?Yeshua! No son, you are never to go near this place.? Joseph?s face was full of worry. The boy found himself being lifted and carried away from the poles and away from the clearing. He held tightly to Joseph?s robe.

?Son, that is a place you should never go,? Joseph said when they were out of sight of the clearing. ?You must never, ever go there.?

Yeshua looked into his father?s eyes and bowed his head.

?I didn?t know, father,? he replied, quietly.

Joseph looked at the dark head of his son and held back a smile as he lowered the boy to the ground.. He chuckled quietly and tousled his son?s hair. My Lord, he?s such a wonderful little boy. How You have blessed me!

?All is well, son. Please, come with me and we can look at the trees together. I need your help; I believe you can choose the best branch.?

?Yes father.? Yeshua said quietly. Then suddenly he embraced Joseph, pressing his cheek into the folds of his father?s robes. Joseph placed his hand on the boy?s head and found himself praying silently.

Please protect him. Please. I thank You.

Yeshua shyly pulled away from his father as they walked away from the clearing. He had something on his mind; Joseph could see that plainly.

?Yeshua, what is it??

?Father, what is that dark place for? What are those poles for?? Yeshua asked.

Joseph considered his words carefully. Yes, his son was old enough to know.

?That is where they punish evildoers, my son.?

A thrill ran up Yeshua?s spine as his heart leapt within him.

That is where they punish evildoers.

He quietly thanked his Father for teaching him today. For helping him learn more about who and why he was.

They punish evildoers there.

He did not understand it fully, but he began to glimpse the miracle, the miracle of rescue and love that had permeated his very being all his short life. He saw it more clearly now. The miracle of rescue and love. Who he was.

?Yeshua, come along.?

The boy trotted happily up to his father, and together they searched for a good load of olive wood until the ninth hour of the day.