Rabbino

The Baptism and the Desert

The-First

The Sabbath sun rose over the construction site like a judgment. The regulations were clear, no work, no heavy lifting, no labour on the Sabbath. But the bank’s loan officers didn’t care about rest days, and neither did the suppliers demanding payment.

The storm last month had wrecked our scaffolding-and with it, our chances of finishing on schedule. The loan we took to replace the equipment came with interest, gnawing at what little profit we scraped from each job.

This week’s pay barely covered half the bills. A few small side jobs, their margins thin as old drywall, just like ours. My father hadn’t spoken in days. He just stared at the ledger, fingers tracing the numbers like a fresh crack in concrete. My youngest apprentice’s hands were blistered; unpaid wages made for weak morale.

But to fix the scaffolding today, to hammer nails into the beams where the secret police might see - that was a violation punishable by fines or worse: death.

Then, in the bar, hushed voices. A man The-Baptist, was speaking near the old industrial district, they said. Not just words of fire, but of a life not built on debt or fear. Some called him a radical; others whispered madman.

And for the first time in years, I felt something sharper than exhaustion: hope.

“We’re going,” I told my partner that night, gripping his shoulder so hard he winced. His eyes flicked to the locked toolbox where we kept what little cash we didn’t owe.

“What if it’s true?” I hissed. “What if this is how we break free?”

The doubt in his face mirrored my own. But when the choice is between drowning in debt and grabbing a blade - you grab. Even if it makes you bleed.

Love-Boy

The company was going to shit. The new scaffolding wasn’t speeding up work like promised, and we all knew the bank would soon repossess the vans to cover the loan. It was a hopeless time.

So, when my partner - my best friend, came to me, desperate for a break from our troubles, babbling about wild rumours he’d heard at the pub, of course I said yes. I love him like a brother. If I could give him even a single day of relief, I would.

We spent some of our last cash on gas, driving out of town and away from our problems.

The moment we stepped out of the van, the air buzzed with energy. People moved in one direction, drawn like ants to a honeypot. The police lingered on the edges, but the crowd was too thick, too restless, they didn’t stop us.

We let the current carry us until it spilled out at the old warehouse lot down by the canal.

I’d never seen so many people gathered, especially on a Sabbath. All of them, just to hear one man.

The-First

The green, rancid water of the canal stank, but I was in awe. We had watched The-Baptist plunge three people into the depths, and each emerged looking invigorated, their faces glowing with a drunken kind of knowing.

We pushed ourselves slowly through the crowd, eager to get closer. I wanted to see more, to hear more-to understand.

Then, as we finally reached the front, he appeared.

A man who looked like any other, yet carried a radiance, an unmistakable glow.

He approached The-Baptist, and though I couldn’t catch their words, suddenly the man spoke with a clarity I had never heard before. His voice resonated like a bass drum at a concert, vibrating through the air, felt as much as heard:

“My turn, Baptist. Baptize me.”

The-Baptist hesitated, then fell to his knees. “Oh, Lamb-Lamb of God. It is you who should baptize me.”

The crowd stood stunned. Who was this man-this Lamb of God?

I had to meet him.

Love-Boy

I knew you, Rabboni -the moment I first saw you, the instant you spoke, I felt my destiny unfold.

My friend was not so easily moved - though drawn to you, he hesitated, needing more. You spoke to him long into the night. Was it persuasion he sought, or simply to bask in your radiance?

I waited patiently beside him, quiet and willing.

It was there that you asked us, “What are you seeking?” And we answered, “We are seeking you, Rabboni.”

And there, in that sacred space, you named my friend The-First and commanded, “Follow.”

Then, turning to me, you called me by my truest name - Beloved, Love-Boy-and whispered, “You must follow too.”

The-Rock

It wasn’t the revolution we’d all dreamed of-but everything must start somewhere.

That’s what I kept telling myself as we waited, crouched in the shadows, eyes locked on the security guard making his rounds. One more circuit, and we’d have at least twenty minutes. Twenty should be enough, enough to break the locks, get inside, grab what we could, load the van, and disappear.

We’d been watching for over an hour, studying the guard’s pattern, timing every movement. Now, it was time. A breathless silence settled over us as the guard’s back turned, his flashlight beam fading into the distance.

Now, count to 180. Then move.

My muscles coiled, ready to spring. Fear dissolved under the rush of adrenaline, sharp and electric. The only distraction was my phone buzzing in my pocket-my brother. He’d have to wait.

100 I wiped sweat from my palms, tightening my grip on the wrecking bar.

130 I glanced at the others, my best friend and two former classmates. Their faces were set, jaws clenched. Ready.

155 My best friend met my eyes and nodded.

“Now.”

The word was barely out of my mouth before we were moving.

Three of us sprinted across the yard while the fourth stood guard by the idling van.

The lock shattered at the first strike of the wrecking bar. We were in.

“You two - left side. Power tools only.”

Blood roared in my ears. I was alive. I was fighting back. With a flashlight clamped between my teeth and the wrecking bar in hand, I pried open cases while the others loaded the van, its doors gaping wide like a hungry beast.

We worked fast-tools, supplies, anything valuable-until a side door creaked open. A voice cut through the dark. “Who ar-?”

Then, light. Blinding. A deafening crack split the air, followed by thick smoke. My ears rang as hands grabbed me, yanking me into the van just as it lurched forward, tires screeching.

We slammed the doors shut.

“What the fuck was that?” I shouted over the engine’s roar.

“That was thunder,” my former classmate laughed, jerking his thumb toward my best friend. “Dumbass set off a firework right in that guard’s face. Like I said-Thunder.”

He grinned like a kid who’d just pulled off the world’s greatest prank.

I turned to them both, heart still hammering. “Do you think he recognized us?”

Thunder

I was scared, really scared. But I would’ve followed my best friend anywhere. When I heard the guard turn the doorknob, I didn’t hesitate.

The flame kissed the rocket’s wick, and I launched it-just as we launched ourselves into the van.

For the first time in forever, I didn’t feel like a slave. I felt like a person.

The world outside was worse than ever, new ownership laws taking more of our land for the Party, crippling taxes, police cracking skulls in broad daylight. And then there were the secret police, snatching people in the night. Just like they took my father.

The next day, we met up: my brother (now calling himself Love-Boy), his friend The-First, me (Thunder), and my best friend.

Love-Boy and The-First were buzzing, not from drugs, but from hope. They spoke for hours about a new leader, a man who could change hearts with just a word.

We whispered late into the night about finding him, following him.

Then, like fate, the same message flashed across all our feeds…

Love-Boy

I could’ve cried. If the others hadn’t been there, I would’ve broken down.

Rabboni. They took you. Arrested you. Threw you into the Desert - a prison so vile, no one comes out sane.

The-First

We were supposed to meet you. I knew, deep in my bones, you were going to change everything.

And now? They stole that from us.

No one survives the Desert. That prison is a life sentence.

The-Rock

You gave them hope. And hope is dangerous when you’re hopeless. The rulers crushed it before it could even catch fire.

Everyone always looked to me to be the leader-which I am not. But that night, I gave them a new leader. I was going to give them hell.

The revolution started that night.

For weeks, we fought, sticks and stones against guns and boots. A losing battle. Kids dragged off in black vans. Mothers screaming in the streets.

The four of us were bloodied now. We knew how to fight. And we fought.

Then… the news came.

Rabboni was free.

You survived forty days in the Desert - the worst prison in the world. Forty days of starvation, beatings, torture.

And yet, you walked out. Not just alive, but unbroken.

How could I not want to meet you? The man who lit a fire in my brother’s eyes. The man who faced hell and walked out with his soul still burning.