Chapter VII. “Duca’s Story”
There was a time, not so many years before, when the roles of Duca and Joseph were reversed. Then it was Duca who was in dire need of assistance, and Joseph was there to lead the rescue mission.
The Arimathean’s long camel caravan was laboring its way by the cool of night across the Arabian Desert. The lead driver signaled that a human lay close to death in the drifting pathway ahead. It was a young eunuch, dying after wandering all day in the fierce sun.
Duca was raving with fever. In and out of consciousness, he barely uttered, “Sirs, I made a petition to the carrion birds, ‘Don’t wait for me to perish.’ I begged, ‘Kill me now, and bring to me my peace!’ But alas, the birds did but ignore me.”
“Save this poor fellow,” commanded Joseph to his camel drivers. “He must be fleeing from some terrible oppression. May God have mercy on his soul!”
The physician traveling with the merchant quickly responded. By the time the young boy showed signs of recovery, the caravan was a day’s journey from Jerusalem. Duca rubbed his eyes and looked into the face of a young man about his own age, still in his teens.
“You’ve survived your ordeal,” the lean boy whispered softly to Duca. “Your God has plans for you. Rise up and receive your blessing.”
Duca could not speak, but miraculously sat up, staring into the deep blue eyes of the youth attending to him.
“Don’t speak. Your strength will return,” assured the stranger. “But you must use wisdom. Here, drink this water and remain still in this moment.”
Bewildered, but feeling a profound peace enveloping him as his new companion offered the goblet, Duca sipped the cool drink. The last time I was so assured of my safety was the moment before the marauders raided my home, when my family was taken in an instant as slaves.
Duca’s peace contended with a concern that this serene person would soon disappear as well. An odd feeling rose up in him that he could not let this visitor fly away.
“We’ll arrive at our destination shortly. Then you’ll be in the employment and protection of the most honorable man in all of Judea,” promised the young boy. “Joseph will look after you and help you as he’s done with others. Listen and do as he says.”
As Duca anticipated the imminent departure of his visitor, a surge of strength rose up in him. The eunuch reached to touch the boy’s shoulder, beckoning him to stay. The caller responded, gently grasping Duca’s hand.
Struggling to express himself, words miraculously flowed from Duca. “We must be the same age, yet you speak so assuredly. I want to rest in my demise, but you seem on a mission.”
“My friend,” the visitor responded, “aberrant thinking of selfish men has maimed you for this life. Nothing more need be stolen from you.”
“Nothing?” protested Duca. “Everything that makes me a man has been torn away for fleshly purposes. My rage is returning.”
“But why turn such thinking into self-destructive plans?” asked the young man. “Stop this senseless mental activity. Choose only thoughts of a higher nature. Select those that would creatively drive you into this moment and the eternal opportunities it presents.”
“I wish this moment to disappear,” Duca responded sincerely. “And you say look to it for opportunity. Peace and comfort perhaps, rather than regret, fear, and torment?”
“Yes, my friend. But be aware. As your strength returns, I say live in the moment. Glory in it. It’s the life you’ve been given by God. The past is dead, and the future is a hazy fictitious vision. Be at peace with this moment. Surrender to it. Accept it as it is. Then you’ll feed your recovery.”
“But …,” Duca weakly interrupted.
Quickly the visitor commanded, “No ‘but.’ Just listen as a child. Right now your body is restoring itself. Respect it. Don’t be like those who abused you. Appreciate your remarkable being. Love it and yourself, for this moment is what has been promised you.”
“Who has made me this promise?”
“God the Father, through the prophets.”
“I know no such prophets.”
“Someday you’ll learn of their messages.”
“And then?”
“And then … every moment that follows will be the same—eternal. Cherish each moment, each morsel of knowledge and each experience. In thinking this way, you’ll enjoy the journey God has set before you.”
“Enjoyment is not a word I understand.”
“You will. And then this life of yours will not be rushed. You’ll not lust for the future, but rather be content in the present.
“I say again,” the young man emphasized, “learn from others, from ancient scriptures, from the spoken word. Be not dismayed there will be those who may seem to have more knowledge. But, knowledge is not the key—understanding and wisdom are the solutions for your life. Someday you’ll teach others, and that’s the ultimate calling.”
“But will that someday ever really come?”
“Ah, another ‘but’ from my new friend,” the young teacher chuckled, graciously continuing as he patted Duca’s hand. “Believe that ‘someday’ has already come. It’s now. Your talent and proclivity to help others exists. It always existed. Just walk into it. I know you do understand what I’m saying, and you want to receive it. But, it’s your fatigue that labors to pollute your thinking.”
Duca nodded in agreement, “My mind is confused, but I do sense a truth.”
“An eternal truth, indeed,” confirmed the youth. “One many will never grasp.
“So, you’ll be made whole for the purpose of helping Joseph and others. And in assisting many, you’ll become consumed with witty inventions and ideas that will aide the masses.”
“I’ve always been a servant. Is that all that’s promised to me?”
“Do not be disappointed in your role in life. Yes, as a servant you’ll continue. But look upon that vocation as equal to the role as a teacher, and even a leader. This is the essence of your life—the one the mind of God has designed for you.”
“But I feel sometimes I have higher ideas than even those I serve. And they don’t seem to understand.”
“Yes, but don’t be disturbed by many who’ll differ from your thoughts, actions, and deeds. Get into their worlds with love and respect—a love that demands no return.”
“Love I find hard to express because of my situation.”
“The love I speak of is not in the physical realm, but rather spiritual. It’s in your heart, in the mind of God where all things like love begin. There it’s pure. Don’t worry about its manifestation. Just love, emptying yourself each day for all you meet.”
“That’s a hard task, stranger.”
“Yes it is. But in the end, live and love each moment as if it’s the one selected by your Creator. Live it fully, love it unconditionally, whether circumstances are those akin to your hopes and dreams, or not. At that point you’ll be standing in a portal to eternity.”
The brilliant young man paused, arose in the carriage, and stared into Duca eyes, even deeper into his very spirit. Duca tried to speak, but could not respond.
And then the unknown visitor stole away.
Exhausted, Duca fell back on his bed. Instantly he was quickened to rise again, part the canvas drapes shielding him from the scorching sun, and then peer into the landscape to behold his caller one more time. The lean teen in the flowing silk rope was trudging deep into the desert away from the protected caravan. Duca squinted to focus his view, his spirit jumping out of his parched skin. He could see the dry unfriendly wind lifting the hem of the young man’s garment as hot sand swirled around him in the distance. The mysterious visitor’s body was being swallowed in an all-consuming desert cloud.
Then there was calm. Had the caller plodded over the drifting dunes? All that was left were his footsteps, which had refused eradication by the devouring desert gusts.
Duca lived under Joseph’s roof in the days to come, tended by the merchant’s physicians and nurses, regaining his strength. One day Joseph visited with him, and Duca was finally able to thank his rescuer and benefactor.
“I wanted to die in the desert, Master. You found me and restored me to health. But I wonder if this is a mixed blessing, mutilated as I am. My life will never be like any other man’s.”
Joseph reassured him, “No creature of God is meant to perish like an animal in the desert. You’ll soon learn your calling. I’ll need a young man to attend to me and my wife in our blessed abode. Why not start there? As you serve my family, you’ll become part of it. And in your serving, you shall lead others. I believe this may be your destiny.”
Immediately in his mind’s eye, Duca was a spectator to a kaleidoscope of moments with that strange, articulate young gentleman in the desert.
Quickly returning to the present, he refocused on his benefactor and responded, “Master, command, and I will obey.”
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