The Servant Boy and Jesus a Fiction Story

by Donna Poole

The second he heard the wood splitting ten-year-old Chislon dropped the hammer and nails and covered his head, but he wasn’t quick enough. The blow sent him sprawling onto the tools on the carpenter table.

“Fool!” Demas, his master shouted. “By now you should know better! How many more good pieces of my wood are you going to ruin?” Demas hauled him up, spit in his face, and raised his fist.

Laughter came from the two tough looking men in the carpenter’s shop with him, men Chislon feared as much as he did his master. He didn’t know their names; he silently called them Rough and Rougher. They came only to the shop, never to the house, and the one especially enjoyed abusing Chislon as much as Demas did.

“Let me teach the boy a lesson, Demas,” Rougher said now. “There are easier ways than fists.”

Rougher yanked Chislon away from Demas, spun him around, held him at arm’s length, and kicked him so hard in the backside that Demas cracked his head on the wall on the other side of the room. Everything spun and he felt like he was going to get sick. All three men laughed like it was some kind of joke.

“Get up and clean the mess you made of the tools on the table,” Demas ordered.

“Let him sit a minute; why don’t you,” Rough, the man who never hurt him suggested. “We have business to discuss. Where’s the wine?”

“Chislon! Get inside and tell Tikvah to bring wine and glasses out here. And hurry!”

Chislon struggled to get up, but his leg was twisted under him, and he was too slow for Demas’s liking. The man hauled him up, leaving bruises on his upper arms, and shoved him toward the door.

“I’ll bring back the wine,” Chislon offered. He didn’t like the way the men looked at his mistress.

“Do as I say, or I’ll beat you with the ropes!” Demas roared.

Chislon could tell Tikvah didn’t like going into the shop when the men were there. She pulled her longest robe around herself and hurried as quickly as possible in and out of the shop. As she left, one of the men said something Chislon couldn’t hear, and the other two laughed.

Chislon began cleaning up the table, and the men started drinking and talking in low voices. He only caught a word here and there.

Finally, Demas said, “Enough with the drinking for now, boys. We’ve got work to do later. We need clear heads.”

Then the three men finished the way they always did. They raised their wine glasses to each other and said in unison, “I know where your families live.” They laughed, but the looks they gave each other made Chislon shiver.

Chislom was disappointed. He’d hoped they’d drink themselves into a stupor. Whenever they did that, he escaped and tried to see if the man Jesus was anywhere nearby. He loved listening to him.

He’d first seen Jesus in Capernaum. Demas had told Tikvah that a wealthy merchant in Capernaum had ordered a huge load of his carpentry, enough to make the seven days’ travel one way worth his while. But when it came time to leave, he’d put Chislon in the back of the wagon with just one table. A few miles down the road Chislon trembled when they’d stopped and picked up Demas’s two rough buddies.

“No abusing the boy on this trip,” Rough had said to Demas and Rougher. “We can’t draw any attention to ourselves.”

“What’s the fun in that?” Demas grumbled. “The only reason I brought the boy was to give us a little fun.”

“He’s right this time, Demas,” Rougher said. “We don’t want the wrong kind of attention. And it’s good you brought the kid. He’ll make us look innocent.”

Rough asked, “But what will we do with him while we…handle our business? That will take several hours.”

“To deliver the table you mean?” And all the men laughed again.

“He’s ten now,” Demas said. “He can look after himself.”

Those seven days to Capernaum were the longest Chislom could remember going without a beating. His parents had sold him to pay off debt when he’d been a baby. From what he’d heard, Tikvah had wanted a child, and Demas had wanted a slave. He refused to let Tikvah give Chilsom even a sleeping mat.

“He needs to learn his place. He’s bad blood. What kind of people sell their own child?”

Demas’s home was nicer than most homes in Jerusalem. Some of the floors were covered, but Demas made Chilsom sleep on the dirt part with no mat, and sometimes, on cold nights, he took his cloak too. On those nights the bruises and cuts hurt more than usual, and he could taste the bitter hatred building inside.

When I get big enough, I’m going to kill you. He’d even told his plan to Tikvah. He’d tried to spare her a beating by stepping in front of her but had only earned both of them a more severe punishment.

After Demas had fallen into a drunken sleep, Tikvah had wiped Chislom’s tears and covered him with one of her robes. “I’m going to kill him someday,” he’d whispered to her,

“Don’t say that, little one,” she’d whispered back, holding him close. “He’s a good man. It’s just the wine. Too much wine.”

Chislom wished Tikvah was with him when the men set him loose in Capernaum. He felt a little lightheaded. The men hadn’t beaten him, but they hadn’t fed him much either. He saw a crowd on a hillside, standing, listening to a man called Jesus. He’d never heard such wonderful words. He felt like Jesus was speaking right to him.

Chilsom could hardly believe his eyes at what he saw next. Jesus told the people to sit down. He took a little boy’s lunch, held it up to heaven, blessed it, broke it into pieces, and handed it to twelve men someone said were his disciples. Chilsom could smell the fish and the fresh bread and his stomach growled. He watched the disciples give people as much food as they wanted, and it wasn’t running out! Where was it coming from? How was Jesus doing this?

“How many people are here?” he asked a boy sitting next to him.

“Father says about 5,000 men plus women and children.”

Chislom’s heart sank. “They’re going to run out before they get to us, and I’m so hungry. I haven’t eaten much this week.”

The boy studied him. Chislom knew old bruises were still visible. “My name’s Barnabus. If I get some food and you don’t, I’ll give you mine.”

“Why would you do that?”

Barnabus smiled. “My parents and I follow Jesus everywhere he goes. He teaches us to love and give. I think he’s the Messiah.”

Chislom caught his breath. “The one who will save Israel from Roman rule? Do you think he could save servant boys from cruel masters?”

Barnabus’s eyes filled with tears. “I’m sorry you have a bad master. I don’t know what all Jesus will do, but my mother says he will save people from their sins. She thinks he’s the son of God!”

The boys didn’t talk anymore after that because they each got a heaping amount of food.

It was food Chislom had trouble keeping on his stomach, because the no beating rule didn’t apply on the seven-day trip back to Jerusalem. The men were in good spirits. Bags of gold filled the back of the wagon. Chislom wondered how they’d gotten all that by selling one table, but he knew better than to ask. They celebrated by beating him and drinking. And every drinking session ended with raised glasses, a laugh, and an “I know where your families live.”

As he lay, bruised and bleeding on the ground every night on the way home, Chislom thought, When I get big enough, I will kill you all. Sometimes, before he fell asleep, he thought about Barnabus who’d been kind to him. He hoped he get to see the boy again sometime, and Jesus too.

Back home, life went on. Chislom tried to keep the hate out of his heart, but Demas made it impossible. Early one morning Chislom woke up hearing Demas talking to Tikvah. “I’m going away again for a week, maybe longer, a business trip.”

“Are you taking Chislom?”

“Not this time. I’m taking my two friends. And don’t you spoil that boy while I’m gone, woman. You make him work his usual fourteen hour day in the shop. If you don’t, you’ll both pay when I get back. Understand?”

“Yes, Demas.”

The minute the wagon rolled away Tikvah started fixing Chislom the biggest breakfast he could remember eating. And she packed him a lunch and rolled it in a towel.

Her eyes sparkled with joy. “Hurry and eat your breakfast, little one. That Jesus you always talk to me about is coming to town today. I can already hear the shouts of the people!”

“But Master Demas said…”

“Hush. Just hurry.”

Chislom tucked his lunch into his tunic and pushed his way through a crowd of people. Many were waving Palm branches and shouting “Hosanna! Blessed is he that comes in the name of the Lord!”

He squeezed into a hole in the crowd near the road and felt someone elbow him. “Hey, it’s you!” Barnabus said smiling. “You got here just in time. Jesus is almost here! And you don’t have a Palm branch to wave. I’ve got two. Take one! Are you still hungry like when I met you?”

Chislom laughed. “No, I’m stuffed. I had a big breakfast.”

“Lucky you! We left so early this morning I didn’t have time to eat! My stomach is trying to eat my ribs!”

Chislom thought he heard a stomach growl even with all the shouting going on around them. “Was that you?”

The other boy laughed and nodded.

Chislom pulled out his lunch. “Here. You need this more than I do.”

“But what if you get hungry later?”

A shrug. “I’m used to being hungry. Besides, my master is gone, so my mistress will feed me something good tonight. I might even get a sleeping mat and a blanket!”

Compassion crossed Barnabus’s face, but there was no time for questions. They could both see Jesus! He was right in front of them, riding a donkey! They waved their Palm branches high over their heads and shouted, “Hosanna!” with the rest of the crowd. Barnabus’s Hosanna was a bit muffled because part of a sandwich was falling out of his mouth.

Jesus looked directly at them and smiled. “Love is stronger than hate,” he said. “Love always gives, and love always wins. Remember that.”

Chislom’s face burned with shame. I feel like he looked right into my heart and saw all the hate. But maybe he knows I gave Barnabus my lunch too. For the first time in his life he felt ashamed of his sin, but he didn’t know what to do about it. He turned to ask Barnabus, but the boy was being pulled away by a kind looking woman, probably his mother.

“Hope I see you again sometime!” Barnabus hollered.

Chislom waved and smiled. I wish I had a mother. I wonder if Tikvah would come with me to see Jesus before he leaves Jerusalem.

The week passed in a blur of happiness for Chislom and Tikvah too. If Chislom had ever been happy before, he didn’t remember it, and he’d never seen Tikvah smile so much. She hugged him, fed him, and called him, “my boy.” She made sure he was warm and cozy at night. The only time a shadow crossed her face was when Chislom tried to talk about Demas.

“I don’t want him to hurt you, Chislom, but I can’t stop him. I have no family. No place to run. And he’s a good man, when he’s not drinking. And look what a good provider he is. He must be very talented and hard working to give us such a lovely home and so much food.”

Chislom knew better. He did most of the work done in the carpenter’s shop, and he wasn’t talented. Demas must be getting money from somewhere else. He certainly wasn’t making it from wealthy clients he was supposedly selling to on his long business trips.

He’s not a good man. I don’t know where he gets his money, but I think it has something to do with his two wicked friends. And Tikvah is wrong. He beats me even when he isn’t drunk. He enjoys hurting me.

But he didn’t say anything. He didn’t want to make another shadow cross the face of the only woman in the world he loved.

On Friday Chislom woke up feeling the uneasy heaviness he felt before a thunderstorm. Perhaps Demas is coming home today. The thought of that sucked the week’s happiness from his heart and filled it with dread and hatred. He was too restless to sleep. As soon as he finished breakfast, he asked Tikvah if he could take a long walk. He started hearing angry shouts and followed the sound. What was happening? He climbed a steep hill and stood too horrified to move. Three men hung pinned like helpless bugs to three crosses. Someone had beaten the face of the man in the middle so it was beyond recognition, but he knew the other two. The men dying in agony on the cross were Rough and Rougher. He couldn’t bear to look at them, but he couldn’t look away either. He started to shiver and couldn’t stop.

A kind hand touched his shoulder. A woman pulled him close. “Look away. You shouldn’t be here. I don’t know why I let Barnabus talk me into coming, but we’ve followed Jesus this far. It seems fitting we follow him to the end.” She begam quietly sobbing. “I still believe he is the son of God. No man could do the things he’s done.”

Jesus? The man beaten so terribly was Jesus? But hadn’t he said love always wins?

“Barnabus,” Chilsom whispered, “the other two men. What did they do?”

Barnabus wiped tears from his face with the back of his hand. “People say they were part of a viscous band of robbers. They beat people and robbed them. There were three, but one got away, and the other two were so terrified of him they wouldn’t give up his name.”

The raised glasses of wine. The laughter. The words, “I know where your families live.” How am I going to go back home? But I have to. I’m the only one who can protect Tikvah now. I don’t know how I’ll do it, but somehow I will.

“Chislom, I’m taking Barnabus home. You go home too. Please. This is a horrible place to be. The demons are dancing; I can almost hear their screams. That good man, Jesus, has never done one thing wrong. Somehow, I feel he’s suffering now for my sins, for the sins of the world, and I can’t bear it.”

Sobbing she pulled Barnabus away. He called back, “Chislom, where do you live? I’ll find you again!”

Chislom called back, but he didn’t know if his friend heard him above the clamor, the taunts people were hurling at the men on the cross, especially at Jesus. They were telling him to come off the cross and save himself if he was God the Son.

Rough and Rougher were making fun of Jesus too. How could they? He was struggling to breathe and didn’t answer a word to his tormenters.

Then Rougher looked at Jesus for a long minute. “Be quiet!” he said to Rough. “We deserve what we’re getting now, but this man is innocent.” He looked at Jesus and spoke in a quieter voice. Chislom listened hard to hear him. “Lord, remember me when you set up your kingdom.”

Chislom caught his breath in wonder. He heard all the unspoken things Rougher wasn’t saying. He was repenting of his sins and believing Jesus was the Son of God. But would Jesus forgive him?

“Today,” Jesus said to the man who had tortured and beaten Chislom and so many others, “you will be with me in Paradise.”

He doesn’t deserve Paradise. Why are you forgiving him so easily? You don’t know all the horrible things he’s done.

But somehow, Chislom knew his thoughts were lies. Jesus did know and forgave him anyway. Then Jesus cried loudly, “Father, forgive them. They don’t know what they are doing to me.”

He’s even forgiving the men who’ve nailed him to that cross? The ones who’ve bashed in his face so I didn’t even recognize him? The ones who pushed that crown of thorns onto his head so the blood is dripping into his eyes? If that’s how love wins, I don’t want any part of it.

Chilsom turned and ran for home and a plan formed in his mind. He would find and hide a rock big enough to kill, and the next time Demas got drunk and slept, he’d bash his head in with it. He’s take care of himself, and Tikvah too. No one would ever hurt them again.

But Demas wasn’t home. Chilsom couldn’t speak, eat, or sleep. He couldn’t tell Tikvah what was wrong with him. He didn’t cry, just stared off into space. She prayed and tried to help him, but he pulled away.

Early on Sunday morning before the sun rose Tikvah heard pounding on the door. Chilsom heard it too, but he couldn’t move. If it was Demas, he’d find the rock he’d hidden, and he’d use it at the right time. He didn’t know how he’d do it when he couldn’t find the strength to sit up, but he’d manage.

Then he recognized the voices at the door, Barnabus and his mother. “Yes, yes,” Tikvah said. “If he will go with you I will too. Perhaps you are a God send.”

She turned to call Chilsom, but he was already on his feet. He didn’t know where they were going, but somehow, he knew they had to go there. The little group of four made their way in the predawn hours through the quiet streets and into an enclosed, beautiful garden. Birds were singing, the sun was rising, and a man was sitting on a bench under a flowering tree.

“Chilsom, Tikvah,” a quiet voice said, “your names mean hope, and I’m here to give you eternal hope.”

“It can’t be Jesus,” Chilsom said to Barnabus. “I watched him die.”

Barnabus’s mom gave him a gentle push. “Yes, he died. But he’s alive now. The Son of God can’t stay dead.”

Chilsom ran crying to Jesus and buried his face on his knees. “I’m so sorry for my hatred. Will you forgive me? And will you help me love Demas when he comes home?”

“I forgive you, Chilsom, and Demas won’t be coming home. After he deserted his friends and ran off to escape capture, his wagon and all his gold plunged over a cliff. He was in it. His last words were to beg God for forgiveness.”

Tikvah began crying softly. “He was a good man.”

“No,” Jesus said. “He was a bad man. But he is a very good man now.”

Tikvah dropped to her knees. “My Lord and my God,” she said to Jesus. “Will you forgive me too?”

“When I died on the cross I took the sin of the world into my heart, felt the pain and shame, and tasted death for everyone. Now, you’ve repented. Your sin is gone. I made it not to be. How do you feel?”

Tikvah smiled through tears. “I feel like love is the only thing left in the world,” she said.

“Take Chilsom, go home, and love him as a son,” Jesus said. “Love always wins in the end.”

Hand in hand, mother and son left the garden to begin a new chapter. Chilsom liked this new feeling called hope. He smiled a goodbye to Barnabus over his shoulder, but his friend was busy talking to Jesus.

“Hurry, Mother,” Chilsom said, pulling her hand. “I have a rock to get rid of.”

The end.

***

These blogs are now available in book form on Amazon:

Backroad Ramblings Volume One: Stories of Faith, Love, and Laughter

Backroad Ramblings Volume Two: Stories of Faith, Love, and Laughter

Backroad Ramblings Volume Three: Stories of Faith, Love, and Laughter

Backroad Ramblings Volume Four: Stories of Faith, Love, and Laughter