Manny and John

By Keith Ouzts

Manny and John is a fun-filled, insightful look into the boyhood of John the Baptist, and his younger cousin, Emmanuel, or Manny for short. Manny is better known by his adult title, Jesus Christ - the Messiah.

Honing in on a short period in time after Mannys presentation at the temple, a well-known story found in the book of Luke, the author imagines what boys the age of 13 would do in Palestine. The most likely answer is, what boys have been doing for ages. They wrestled, climbed trees, threw rocks, dared each other to eat bugs, and generally had a grand old time while making a nuisance of themselves to adults and girls.

The story begins as the boys are part of a caravan heading to Nazareth from Jerusalem. Boys will be boys, and the author (being one himself) is capable of providing what is probably a fairly accurate description of conversations they might have had. After arriving in Nazareth, they work with Joseph in his carpenters shop, play with other boys, and then have great adventures.

The crux of the story is the discovery of a cave, subsequent capture by soldiers, dealings with zealots and the impact of all of these on the town of Nazareth. The author has woven events and people from the ministry of Jesus as an adult into the story, and has hoped to portray some of the thoughts the young savior might have had.

It is an honest story in addition to adventures and a sense of fun, there is sorrow, regret and pain. The reader will find that the author has managed to truly transport one from the here and now. Any book that is capable of drawing the reader in, making the reader a part of the story is worth reading. This book does so on an emotional and spiritual level.

One of the most difficult parts to tackle was based on the divinity of Jesus. As stated in the Bible, He was wholly human, and wholly divine. As an adult, His ministry was comprised of miracles, prophecy and wisdom unlike any other. Yet, how did this relate to His boyhood? As a boy, did He perform miracles? Did He heal members of His family or neighbors of their illnesses? Was He able to just be a good son to His earthly father? The author sought not to answer some of these types of questions, but to give an insight into how they might have been answered.

One of the questions that arose was, how does an innocent mistake fit in? Is that a sin? Since Jesus was without sin as an adult, He must have been without sin as a boy. But boys are so full of energy, of living life to the fullest that all boys make mistakes from time to time. Could Jesus have, in His humanity, made a mistake that was tantamount to a sin, yet still remain sinless? Again, the author wrote honestly about boys, while at the same time maintaining the reverence he feels for his Savior.

Hollywood has normally portrayed Jesus as a 6-foot, blue-eyed and with a British accent. It is easy to believe the divinity of Christ in that portrayal. The reality is that He was probably very middle-Eastern looking dark hair, eyes and skin. Again, seeking to be as realistic as possible in the portrayal of Jesus as a boy, the author researched the times and societies for authenticity of the story. The habits and mores of the citizens of Nazareth are documented with a true accuracy. As a historical novel, this book relates a first-class tale in a well-written and well-received fashion.

The author conceived of the idea while deployed to Operation Iraqi Freedom in the spring of 2003. As a career Marine, his first focus was mission accomplishment for himself and his unit. But the impact of living in a middle-eastern desert, much the same way as Moses or David might have lived, lead to the first draft of this story. He was able to study and observe the culture of the nomadic desert people. Tents are still very much in use as homes; camels and horses are the means of transportatio

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Jan 31, 2007
• ISBN: 9781514426869

Keith Ouzts

Keith Ouzts retired from the Marine Corps in June 2005 as a Gunnery Sergeant. His military service had taken him all over the world; from Africa to Japan to Europe, and finally to Operations Enduring Freedom and Iraqi Freedom in 2003. “Living in a tent, in the desert, where Biblical heroes such as Moses, Abraham or David might have wandered made quite an impact on me,” he said. Keith currently lives in Havelock, North Carolina with his wife Julie, and children Jedidiah and Christine. He enjoys hunting, fishing, hiking and playing guitar

Book preview

9781514426869_epubcover.jpg

Manny and John

Keith Ouzts

Copyright © 2007 by Keith Ouzts.

Cover art by Todd Croft

Author photo by Keepsake Photography

Library of Congress Control Number: 2006905947

ISBN: Hardcover 978-1-4257-2390-3

Softcover 978-1-4257-2389-7

Ebook 978-1-5144-2686-9

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Xlibris Corporation

1-888-795-4274

www.Xlibris.com

[e-mail]

34283

Contents

ONE

TWO

THREE

FOUR

FIVE

SIX

SEVEN

EIGHT

NINE

TEN

ELEVEN

TWELVE

THIRTEEN

FOURTEEN

FIFTEEN

SIXTEEN

SEVENTEEN

EIGHTEEN

NINETEEN

TWENTY

TWENTY-ONE

TWENTY-TWO

TWENTY-THREE

TWENTY-FOUR

TWENTY-FIVE

TWENTY-SIX

TWENTY-SEVEN

TWENTY-EIGHT

For Jed, my son, who is also my brother in arms and my brother in Christ. For Christie, my daughter, who is also my pork chop and my mini-me.

For Julie, my wife, who is my gift from God, my soul mate and my

best friend. No man has ever been more blessed than I.

"Behold, the virgin shall be with child and shall bear a son, and they shall call

his name Emmanuel, which translated means, God with us."

Matthew 1:23

"And behold, even your relative Elizabeth has also conceived a son in her

old age; and she who was called barren is now in her sixth month.

For nothing will be impossible with God."

Luke 1:36-37

Image5698.tif

ONE

T hey were cousins. The two boys ambled along far behind the caravan,

picking up rocks and throwing them, punching each other and then falling to the ground in impromptu wrestling matches. Of course, boys have been doing this all over the world since Cain and Abel’s happier times.

Since they were boys, horseplay was not the only thing that happened without benefit of thought. Loud burps and belches (and worse) were carefully listened to, analyzed, and laughed at.

Momentarily running out of gas, John said, Hey Manny, watch this!

They stopped in the road and Manny observed as John licked his hand, reached it through his tunic to his underarm and pumped his other arm up and down. Impolite noises, such as those already issued by the boys, emerged at each pump. Manny’s eyes widened as he laughed out loud.

Excellent! he said. How did you do that?

John repeated his actions. Manny followed suit, licking his hand and attempting to replicate the sounds at the same time as John. There it was. For one brief moment in history, the culmination of thousands of years of wars, civilizations, inventions, and kingdoms boiled down to two boys, standing in the middle of a desert road under the hot sun, making fart noises with their armpits. Should the reader care to look, boys are continuing this practice to this day in deserts, jungles, cities, farms, and towns.

The boys pumped furiously, issuing armpit noises at a fantastic rate. After a particularly good one, they both sat down and laughed. John licked his hand again and then made a face.

Ugghh, he said.

What is it? asked Manny.

Ew. I licked my hand again and got armpit taste in my mouth!

Manny fell on the ground laughing while John continued to spit and grimace. John was the older cousin by six months. He was a couple of inches taller than Manny. Though Manny was shorter, he showed about him a muscular strength. His father was a carpenter, and he was used to sawing and hammering, which had helped his physical development. Manny was almost, nearly, not quite, soon-to-be 13 years old. That meant that he was still 12, of course. John had already attained that mythical (to young boys anyway) age.

Manny kicked his heels up and down in his laughter.

Oh my sides! Ha ha! Armpit taste. Here John, he said, holding out his hand, want a lick of my armpit? He collapsed again in a torrent of giggles and snorts.

John spit again and cast a sideways look at Manny. He struggled to come up with a good retort. Failing in that endeavor, he punched Manny on the shoulder. Manny kept laughing. Not only was John his cousin, he was also his best friend. They always had good times together. He was looking forward to the next couple of weeks; John and his mother were traveling back to Nazareth with them to stay for a while.

Hey, guys! came a shout from up the road. Both boys looked up to see Manny’s younger brother, James, hustling towards them. They glanced around and noticed that there was no caravan, no other people, and that they were in fact, quite alone in the middle of the hilly desert.

Hey. Where did everybody go? asked John.

James tripped on a rock as he was drawing near and fell in the road. He jumped up with his teeth clenched. Manny! he whined. James was 9 years old.

Manny and John stood up and walked over to James. He had skinned his elbow and knees when he fell down. Now he was hopping up and down, trying to make the pain of the scrape go away.

You okay? asked Manny. James fell down all the time and should have been pretty used to scrapes by now.

Ow, ow, ow, ow, oooh it hurts, Manny, whined James.

James, said Manny patiently, I’ll tell you the truth—you know better than to walk and think—it always ends with you falling down.

John laughed and said, James, what are you doing out here? You might have got eaten by a lion or something.

Manny grinned as James’ eyes widened at the thought of being eaten by a lion.

You think so, John? he said. I didn’t know that there were still lions around here. Maybe we can find their den! Let’s go look! He started off the road towards the nearest rocky area.

Manny sighed and shook his head. He grabbed James by the neck of his tunic as James was darting past him.

See what you started, John? he said. To James he said, Not now. Did father send you back for us?

James struggled to pull his thoughts away from lions. He vaguely recalled his father speaking to him about Manny and John, but that seemed to have happened well past the time frame kept in his memory banks. He looked blankly at Manny.

Manny was used to this. James was a source of hilarity to the whole family, always running, always excited, but slightly scatter-brained.

I guess he must have. I don’t see the caravan anywhere. Are your scrapes all right? asked Manny.

James looked down. Getting eaten by a lion or finding its den had caused him to forget about falling on the road. All three boys looked in interest at the blood trickling down his legs from his skinned knees.

Nice one, James, said John.

You might even get a scar from that one, said Manny. Here, let me look at it.

Manny leaned down and flicked a couple of small rocks out of the skinned area. James resumed hopping up and down.

Ow! Ow! Manny stop it! Ow! he said.

C’mon James, get over it, it’s a skinned knee, said John. We’d better catch up with the van.

Manny agreed, so they turned James around and started up the road at a good pace. James soon stopped complaining about his scrapes and started scanning the sides of the road for lions, lizards, bugs, or anything else that might be of interest.

The sun beat down on them as they walked. The wind aimlessly moved around them, but it was not a cooling wind. It only spoke of more heat. It felt too hot to talk, or even wrestle. They soon saw the tail end of the caravan off in the distance. At first it was hard to tell what it was, the heat shimmers giving the impression that the van was swimming, but the dust that rose from the road gave it away.

Man, panted John as he gazed at the distant van. I’m so hot I might ride with the women just so I can sit down!

Most of the women were riding in carts, while men and boys walked alongside. Some of the men rode on donkeys. The caravan was returning to Nazareth from Jerusalem. Several families had journeyed down together for the feast of the Passover. Additionally, Manny and a couple of other boys had been presented at the Temple. In the Hebrew culture, first-born males were presented at the Temple for their 13th birthday. Due to the distance traveled, this was typically done in conjunction with a feast, and boys were presented ranging from 12 to 15 years old.

It was much safer to travel as a group—robberies were not uncommon on the deserted stretches of road. The men were not soldiers, but townspeople—carpenters, blacksmiths, tanners, merchants, and shepherds. They saved all year to be able to make the trip, a trip conducted both to follow Yahweh’s commands, and to honor Him.

Well, you look like a woman, you might as well ride with them! said Manny. He and James laughed and John grinned. John’s parents had vowed before he was born that he would be a Nazirite—forbidden to drink wine or cut his hair. He had a long mane that reached past the middle of his back. He usually wore it in a ponytail. His mother still insisted on brushing it once a day, much to his chagrin. He had learned how to play along with such teasing.

Ohhh, you are such a handsome young man, John cooed to James in a womanly falsetto. Come ride with me and I’ll kiss your boo-boos. This time Manny and John laughed, while James frowned and tried to figure out if he had been zinged.

Continuing with the falsetto, John said, Hurry, let’s catch the van so I can grind up a special bread for you, Manny. It might help put hair in your armpits! He started dancing down the road, trying to mimic a woman dancer.

This time Manny frowned and shook his head. Like all 12-year-old boys, he spent an inordinate amount of time checking his armpits for hair. He checked his chest and face also, and was discouraged that he didn’t seem to have any yet. At John’s taunt, he felt the need to check again. Still no hair! Lacking a good response, all he could do was run up and jump on John’s back.

They fell to the ground, rolling over each other and trying to gain advantage. James saw the action and a gleam came into his eye. Heedless of thought, he ran and leapt at the boys, even bounding off a small boulder to get more height. Of course, Manny and John were still rolling; James realized his miscalculation in midair as he flew well over them and landed on the ground, knocking the wind out of him.

He jumped up and tried to walk it off, trying to get in some air. The air couldn’t get past the stoppage in his lungs. He just knew his ribs were broken. Then he knelt down and put his hands on the ground, still trying vainly to breathe. Tears leaked out, unbidden. Meanwhile, John had gotten Manny in a headlock and was triumphantly crowing about it.

"Ha ha! Want some of this armpit hair, you pig eater? Pig eater" was a common insult among boys, since neither had ever tasted any type of pork, nor would they. Pigs were unclean, and not to be eaten by the Hebrews.

Manny struggled to get free and finally had to give up. John noogied his hair one last time and stood up, arms raised to the sky.

Victorious again! I am the mighty warrior! Ha ha! He stuck his sandaled foot in Manny’s face. The warrior demands your fealty, tie my sandal—hey, what’s wrong, James?

John had glanced at James and seen his distress. He forgot that his foot was in front of Manny, leaving him off-balance. He remembered this fact a split second after Manny did. Manny grabbed his foot and stood up, twisting John’s foot, letting gravity take over. Manny smiled down at John with a satisfied grin.

What were you saying about tying my sandal, John?

John had to smile. They went over to check on James.

The tears continued to leak out of his eyes, but he paid them no mind as he concentrating on breathing. The boys stood him up and walked him around, trying to help.

Yeah, I know, James, said Manny. I hate it when I get the wind knocked out of me. You just have to keep breathing.

Easy . . . for . . . you . . . gasped James.

John winked at Manny over the top of James’ head. Hey Manny, is that a snake over there?

James perked up right away, involuntarily sucking in the air his body craved. Where? he asked. He had already forgotten having the wind knocked out of him.

It could be over there, by that rock, said Manny, playing along.

James could be easily distracted by mentioning any kind of animal. He had already been bitten by just about everything in Nazareth that would crawl, slink, slither, fly, or walk (including his sisters).

He pushed the boys away and went to investigate the rock.

Good distraction, John, said Manny. I just hope he doesn’t actually find one over there.

If he does, I’m running, said John. I hate snakes.

Some of them aren’t bad. I don’t like the poisonous ones, but most of them are pretty shy. It’s surprising that James can sneak up on them. He’s so loud I would think most of them could hear him coming hours before he got there.

Does your mother know James has played with snakes?

Oh sure. He always tells us about them and he has brought a few home with him. She makes him let them go and then makes him take a bath. That’s a pretty bad punishment for James.

Let’s go catch up with the van, I’m getting hungry, said John.

Manny felt a sympathetic grumble in his stomach at the mention of hunger.

Me too. C’mon James! he yelled.

They started up the road as the caravan (once again) was far off in the distance.

Manny looked hard at the caravan, glanced over at John who had stopped to look at a rock, then started running ahead.

Last one there is a Roman pig eater! he yelled over his shoulder. James and John both looked up, dropped what they had in their hands, and let out a yell as they began the chase.

TWO

T he caravan had stopped for the evening. The different families had

sorted themselves out, started small campfires, and were beginning their evening routines. Smaller boys wrestled, ran, and chased each other near their mothers—close enough to almost roll into the campfires, but far enough away to not disturb dinner. The girls helped by grinding grain, making faces at their brothers, and preparing the meal. They kept an eye on the smaller boys and babies. Some sewed or patched torn cloaks or tunics.

The older boys had been banished to the outskirts of the camp. Banishment had come from their mothers, who were tired of hearing Is it ready?, Can I eat?, I’m starving! Some wrestled, others threw rocks. Had the reader asked them, they would have claimed to be starving and on the verge of death. They were, after all, teen-age boys.

Their attention was easily diverted by a wrestling match, but even that was half-hearted. Before long, the entire group was standing together, forlornly looking at the campfires, and catching the fragrant aroma of the cooking food.

They tried to stave off their hunger by boasting about what they could eat (but wouldn’t).

I’m so hungry, I could eat a, um, a bat! said one.

I’m so hungry I would eat a rat stew—one rat just wouldn’t be enough, said another.

That’s nothing. I could eat a whole pig. Yep, the whole thing, spoke up another.

One boy smirked. Oh, a pig’s nothing. I’d eat a pig—an uncircumcised one! Several of the boys laughed, and the contest was on.

I’m thinking about roast groundhog right now, mmmmm, offered one lad.

I’m thinking about a donkey . . . and its blood!

That’s nothing, said one boy. I could eat a pig covered in a snake and catfish sauce! That was met with a general murmur of approval.

"Oh yeah? We’ll I’m so hungry I could walk up to a vulture and eat it—and whatever it was eating!" Laughter and fake vomit sounds from the crowd on that one.

The boys were searching their memories now for unclean foods that they were forbidden to eat. The most common one was pork. The problem with that was, pork smelled heavenly when it was cooked. Gentiles, and especially the Romans, were not limited in their eating habits, and all the boys had smelled pork on this trip to Jerusalem.

I’ve got a hankering for rabbit, boiled in a worm sauce. Mmm-mmm! All mushy and stuff!

Said one lad,