The Bell-Bearer

A Dramatic Re-Telling of Luke 5:12-14

Once again, I’m sharing a writing assignment from my cohort with Gospel Centered Discipleship. This one was perhaps the most challenging so far (I think I said that last time):

Write a story from a Bible verse or text. Tell a story that engages the heart and imagination and finds the truth of the verse somewhere within it.

Sharing this feels like when a child shows a grownup her drawing, and they say, “Aww. What a nice-looking tree.” To which comes the reply, “It’s not a tree, silly; it’s my mommy.” I fear the reader will say, “Ha, ha, ha. What a funny joke.” To which I will say, “Uh, this was a work of creative fiction meant to move the heart.” Regardless, here’s a non-fiction writer’s attempt to fictionally retell the story of Jesus and the leper in Luke 5:12-14. It’s always meant so much to me, as far back as I can remember. The poor fellow was a bruised reed if there ever was one.

Thanks for reading. I’d love to know your thoughts about my feeble attempt at fiction, even if you think I’ve drawn a tree.

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Janai awoke with a fleshy weight on his chest.

“Miriam, you cheeky little lamb,” he whispered. “What has Abba told you about sleeping in your own bed?” He hugged her tiny frame tightly, burying his face in her curly, black hair. He gently rolled her off, tucking her under his blanket. Was that breakfast he smelled?

“You make the best bread in all of Bethany, Abigail. I think I’ll keep you as my wife—for now,” Janai said as he entered the kitchen of their small, four-room house. 

“Is that right? How good to know I’m in such grace for another day. Why, King Herod’s wife should be so blessed,” she said with a laugh as he embraced her from behind. 

Janai broke off a chunk of bread not long pulled from the oven, kissed her, and then walked toward the door, grabbing his cloak on the way.

“And where are you going so early?”

He paused briefly and answered, “The Temple.” Abigail’s face fell. “I tell you, it’s nothing. He will look and say, ‘Why, that’s a mere rash. Go home and enjoy your wonderful wife whose bread is the envy of all Judean women.’”

“Very well, then. Pick up some leeks at the market on your way home.”

“Yes, of course,” he said, leaving for the two-mile walk into the city.

---

“Unclean,” the priest declared. 

“Are you sure? How can this be? Please check again,” Jania pleaded.

“Unclean,” he replied in a cold, clinical tone. 

“No, this must be a mistake,” he said to himself as the shock set in.

The priest shoved a brass bell into his chest, a cruel gift meant to warn the clean of his cursed condition wherever he went. Temple guards quickly ushered him at arm’s length out of the city gates as if he were a filthy rag.

---

How long has it been now? Janai thought as he bundled himself tightly in his cloak, the only thing protecting him from the cold evening air. I bet my little lamb has grown like a reed. He closed his eyes and imagined holding her, pressing his face against her locks again. Abigail was conjured up for a warm group hug. A wide smile caught the tears running down his muddy cheeks as he cried himself to sleep, something he now did every night.

Jania arose the following day to the company of rotting noses, fingers, and toes. His home, if one could call it that, since that fateful day in the Temple. It was a dirty, desolate dump far outside the village that stunk so horribly he gagged for days after arriving. This was the life reserved for bell-bearers. 

“Bread, there is bread!” someone shouted. Jania joined the throng, hoping to get a handout. It was hard as a rock, but beggars, as they say, can’t be choosers.

“Have you heard…” munch, munch, “the talk in town,” munch, “about the Messiah?” A wretched old man asked.

“Ha,” said another, “how many have there been now? They all come to nothing.”

“I hear this one works miracles,” said a woman prying away a piece of the stale donation with her skeleton-like hands. “They say the blind see; the lame walk! Yeshua, they call ‘im.”

As Janai listened to the banter, he thought, Yeshua. His name means “God Saves.” Maybe he will save me.

The early morning sun warmed Janai’s back as he made his way to the land of the clean. How will I find him? he worried. That concern was quickly exchanged for another. He arrived to discover thousands standing between him and his hope. It might as well have been a stone wall twenty feet high and just as thick for a leper.

“I should have known,” he whispered as tears welled up and flowed. Hope faded with every step back towards camp. Suddenly, he stopped. Pulling the bell out of his cloak, he stared at it briefly, then turned around with newfound determination.

Ding! Ding! 

“Unclean! Unclean!” he yelled as he approached the unsuspecting mob.

Ding! Ding! 

“Unclean! Unclean!”

Like Moses parting the Red Sea, Janai walked through as the crowd lined up, petrified in two rows. Yeshua, who reclined on a tree stump, watched him move forward not with repulsion, like everyone else, but with a loving, joyful gaze not unlike a groom seeing his bride on their wedding day. 

Collapsing prostrate at the Teacher’s feet, Jania knew only to beg, “If you are willing, you can make me clean.”

The Healer gently placed his hand on a trembling shoulder. As the throng released a collective gasp of horror, Janai exhaled a gasp of emotion. And then he heard the sweetest, most powerful words ever spoken. 

“I am willing. Be made clean.”

Suddenly, dead nerves tingled back to life. Black flesh faded white, then blushed pink as it stretched to cover exposed bones. Weeping lesions dried up to disappear beneath glowing, olive skin. 

Inexpressible joy swelled Janai’s heart.

---

A deliriously happy reunion occurred in Bethany that day, one with long embraces, dancing, wine, and bread. The whole town heard and rejoiced, wondering what this meant. All the while, on a table in the Temple sat an abandoned bell.