Son of Mary

by R. S. Ingermanson

  Still he has put me in a box. If I explain the matter, then it is not fitting. If I do not explain the matter, then I have failed in my promise. HaShem, why did you give me such a friend?

  Yoni’s eyes fill with doubt. With pain.

  My silence is crushing him.

  I must explain the matter to him, even if it is not fitting. A promise is a promise, and I do not break a promise.

  So I explain the matter as a woman knows it. If that is wrong, it is wrong, but I do not know what else I can do.

  Yoni asks many questions, very naive and foolish. I do not laugh, though twice I smile and pinch his cheek. But I do not lie, and I do not leave out anything. That is part of my promise, to tell the truth, and all of it.

  When I finish, Yoni’s eyes shine. “Thank you, Big Sister. The matter is good, yes? HaShem made it good for a woman, and not only for a man.”

  “Yes, it is good. I remember many times when it was good.” A gentle warmth wells up in my heart.

  Then I remember the evil day, and my insides turn cold. On the day I had been married seven years, my lord told me that a woman who does not conceive by the age of twenty is barren. He said a barren woman is cursed by HaShem. He said a man must have sons, and I could not give him sons.

  He said it was not a matter of his mislike, and it was not a matter of my wickedness. It was only a matter that HaShem made me barren. So he went to his writing room and wrote out a bill of divorce with his own hand and gave it to me and said I was divorced. He threw me off like an old tunic that is beyond mending. That was the most evil day that ever was.

  Yoni looks across the valley to the Temple again. “Torah says Adam knew his woman and she conceived. I do not understand why you did not conceive.”

  All my skin is ice. He has put his finger on the boil in my heart. “It is because I am barren.”

  “Is it always the woman who is barren, and never the man?”

  I want to run away somewhere and weep for a hundred years. But then Yoni would feel sad, and it is already a sad day. So I smile on his foolishness. He is twelve years younger than me, so of course he knows nothing on the matter. “A man cannot be barren. It is always the woman.”

  I do not add that some call a barren woman zonah. That is cruel, to call a woman zonah only because she is barren. I did not ask to be barren. HaShem made me barren. Why should I be called zonah when HaShem made me this way?

  Yoni shakes his head. “I wish there were no male and female. It makes simple things hard, and it keeps friends apart who should not be apart. In the Age to Come, I do not think there will be male and female.”

  I do not know what to say. The Age to Come will be as HaShem says, not as Yoni says. HaShem does not follow the will of Yoni.

  I lean close to Yoni and give him a kiss and a kiss and a kiss. I know it is the last time I will kiss him, forever. From now on, Yoni will live in the world of men and I will live in the world of women. It is the will of HaShem.

  Blessed be HaShem.

  Tears run out of my eyes.

  Blessed be HaShem.

  Yoni looks on me and his face is fierce. He clutches my hand. “Big Sister, you will promise me one thing, yes?”

  I could never refuse anything to my little Yoni. “Yes.”

  “Promise me you will always be my friend, even now I am a man.”

  Fear squeezes my heart with a mighty squeeze. I do not know what to say. It is not done in Israel for a woman to be friend on a man. It is not done in Egypt. It is not done in Syria. It is not done in Rome. It is not done in any land in all the earth.

  It is not done.

  “Yes, Big Sister?”

  I do not speak. Of course I cannot say yes. It is the most foolish thing in the world. Elazar and Marta would make a big scorn on me if they heard it. My lord who divorced me would call me a sinner and a shameless and a wicked. All the village would call me a seducing woman.

  “Yes, Big Sister?”

  Yoni’s eyes shine with love. I remember when he was a little child and came to me, choosing me above all the adults. He stretched out his arms and walked past his own mother to come to me. I do not know why he chose me, but he did.

  So I cannot say yes, but neither can I say no to my little Yoni.

  I sigh with a big sigh. “If HaShem wills it, Little Brother.”

  Yoni smiles. “Then the Age to Come is upon us, yes?”

  “I …” My heart wants that. My heart wants it very much.

  But my mind knows it is a big wickedness, and a bad scandal will come on it.

  Chapter Ten

  Miryam of Nazareth

  It is nearly four weeks since Yeshua came back to us. We had a big joy here in Jerusalem all that time. We made a great feast for Rosh HaShanah, but Yeshua did not make a move to redeem Israel. Then we made repentance during the Ten Days of Awe, but again he did not make a move. Then the high priest made atonement for Israel on Yom Kippur, but still my son delayed to make a move. Then we lived in booths on the roof of our rented house for the eight days of Sukkot, and all that time my son did not make a move. On the Shabbat after Sukkot, we rested, and of course Yeshua did not make a move on Shabbat. We have all asked him many times when he will make a move, but he says he will make a move when HaShem tells him to make a move.

  Today we are leaving Jerusalem on the Jericho Road. The road is filled, for many thousand came to the feast, and they are all leaving today. My heart feels heavy with a big dread, for I cannot bear to return home.

  For these four weeks, I was not once afraid on the cruel women of Nazareth. Nobody spat my feet or hissed zonah under her breath. It was good to feel free from the hate of our village, and now already we must go back? The time has been too short.

  I walk with my son and he holds my hand tight, as I am a man and a friend. He makes a scandal by walking with a woman, but I do not care. When he is Mashiach, he can make a mighty scandal, and no one will say no.

  I squeeze his hand. “Yeshua, we will go to Shlomi Dancefeet’s wedding feast before you make a move, yes?”

  His brothers move closer and bend their ears toward us. They are all wondering the same. Yeshua has not yet explained the matter of how he will make a move. A week and two days from today, my youngest daughter is to be married, and after that Yeshua can do all the things Mashiach must do.

  Yeshua says nothing, but his face is troubled.

  A cloud chills my heart, though the day is bright and the Jericho Road is hot.

  Little Yaakov is the boldest of my sons, and he says, “We should raise up an army now. All these thousands are going to hear the prophet Yohanan at the Jordan on their way home from the feast. We should destroy the Great Satan at once. A wedding feast is a small thing next to that.”

  My heart thuds with hurt. A wedding feast is not small to the woman being wed. I do not know how Mashiach is to make a new kingdom, but if Yeshua has waited a whole month to make a move, he should wait another week until my daughter is married.

  Yeshua says nothing, and his eyes turn inward.

  I do not think he is hearing the voice of HaShem. But I think he is trying to hear the voice of HaShem. Trying and failing.

  I clutch his hand tight, for I am desperate that HaShem will not take away all my sons to fight while my daughter is being married.

  Shlomi Dancefeet seizes Yeshua’s other hand. “Please, you will not make a big fight with the Great Satan before my wedding feast, yes?”

  Little Yaakov scowls on Shlomi Dancefeet. “The war of HaShem is not to be delayed for a wedding feast.”

  All my other sons grumble their agreement.

  My heart is stone inside me. I fear they are right, but I wish they are wrong.

  Shlomi Dancefeet hops up and down for her anger. Tears run down her cheeks. “No! You are wrong! A wedding feast is not to be delayed for a war!”

  All my insides are in a knot. I clutch Yeshua’s hand so tight, I think my fingers will break.

  Yeshua opens his eyes and they are trou
bled. “We will go to the wedding feast.”

  All my other sons make dark faces.

  “Did HaShem tell you so, or are you afraid to make a move?” Little Yaakov asks.

  “I … it is hard to hear the voice of HaShem. But I feel we should go to the wedding feast of our sister.”

  Little Yaakov scowls on Yeshua. “You feel? You will ask the prophet Yohanan on the matter, yes?”

  Yeshua nods. “I will ask Yohanan for a word from HaShem.”

  “And if he tells you to make a move, will you make a move?”

  I never saw Little Yaakov so angry. I think he will smite Yeshua right here in the Jericho Road, right now.

  Yosi steps between them. He is my middle son and was always a peacemaker. We named him for my lord Yoseph, and he is well named, for there was never such a peaceable man as my lord Yoseph.

  Little Yaakov puts a hand on Yosi’s chest and pushes him away. “Stand aside, Yosi. This matter is between me and Yeshua.”

  Yosi makes a big grin on him. “With respect, this matter is between HaShem and Yeshua. We all agreed to go with Yeshua to speak with the prophet. If the prophet tells us to go to war, we will go to war, all of us. Did Yeshua ever say no to a commandment of HaShem?”

  Little Yaakov swallows twice and says nothing. His face is red as a wood in a fire.

  Yosi says, “And if the prophet tells us not to go to war yet, then we will not go to war, yes? Our fathers waited many hundred years for a prophet. Now we have a prophet, and we can wait a few more days until he tells us when we will smite the Great Satan.”

  Little Yaakov narrows his eyes. “You think the prophet will tell us not to go to war?”

  Yosi shrugs. “I do not know what the prophet will say. If we knew what the prophet will say, we would not need the prophet, yes?”

  I am more glad than I ever was that I have my Yosi. He is not a tsaddik like Yeshua. And he is not a fierce warrior like Little Yaakov. But he is not nothing, either. He is a quiet man like my lord Yoseph, and that is something.

  Little Yaakov says, “What if the prophet does not say yes or no? Then what will we do? Will you hesitate like some woman, or—”

  Yosi shrugs. “I never heard of a prophet who could not choose between yes and no, did you? If this prophet Yohanan will not say yes or no, then that will be a bad matter, but we should not climb that mountain unless we come to it, yes?”

  Little Yaakov looks mispleased, but Thin Shimon and Yehuda Dreamhead nod their heads. Usually, they follow after anything Little Yaakov says, but it is hard to say no to Yosi when he makes a logic. That is what Yeshua calls it—a logic. I do not know why he calls it that, but I know Yosi has a good skill at making a logic.

  Yosi grins on Little Yaakov.

  He turns to look on Yeshua, and his grin runs away.

  Yeshua stands a little apart from us all. His eyes are closed and his whole body shakes. His head tilts back, and a fierce light shines out from inside him.

  Terror squeezes my heart. It is a fearful thing to see the Shekinah on a man.

  My sons gather around Yeshua.

  Little Yaakov’s eyes bulge and his face is hard.

  Yosi’s mouth hangs down to his knees.

  Thin Shimon wipes sweat from his forehead.

  Yehuda Dreamhead seems ready to faint.

  Shlomi Dancefeet puts a hand on Yeshua, then pulls back as she has touched fire. Her whole body trembles like a tree in a big storm.

  We wait.

  At last, the light fades from Yeshua’s face. His eyelids flicker. He shakes his head and opens his eyes.

  “What did HaShem say?” Shlomi Dancefeet cries out.

  “I … am not certain.”

  “But what do you think he said?”

  Yeshua gives her a kiss and a kiss and a kiss, and his eyes shine with love. “I think HaShem will do a thing he never did before at your wedding feast.”

  “But you will not make a move at my feast, yes?”

  “HaShem loves you.”

  She seizes his hands and kisses them. “You will not make a move at my feast, yes?”

  “HaShem loves you more than even I love you.”

  “You are making a dodge on the matter! Did HaShem tell you to make a move?”

  “HaShem’s voice is faint, or else my ears are dull, but … I think a mighty deed will be done at your feast.”

  Shlomi Dancefeet’s face turns pale. That is any girl’s worst nightmare, to be married on the day that begins the war of HaShem.

  My veins are hot, and I am sweating. It is not right, but what can I say? I am only a woman, and what does a woman know of the war of HaShem? That is a matter for men to decide.

  Even so, if Yeshua begins the war of HaShem on the day his sister is married, I will box his ears until he is deaf.

  Chapter Eleven

  Shimon of Capernaum

  I stop and take a long drink of beer from my waterskin. “Yoni, slow down. Your brother is tired. My brother is tired.”

  Yoni looks back on the three of us. He hops up and down for his excitement, because we will see the prophet soon. “And you are tired also, yes, Shimon?”

  “I did not say I was tired.” I drink more beer and think how good it will be to cool my feet in the Jordan River. The day is hot and we have walked far and I am a big man, so I sweated a big sweat in the bright sun and now I need a drink of beer on account of the sweat. That is not the same as being tired.

  Yoni wears a smirk. He is small and light of foot and does not sweat. Any fool can see he walks too fast for our brothers. I would slap his smug face if I could catch him.

  In Jerusalem during the feast, all the talk was on this new prophet, this Yohanan the immerser. Today we will see if this man is a true prophet of HaShem. Our fathers think Yohanan is much smoke and little fire, but they agreed to let us young men come learn the truth on the matter.

  I am desperate to know if Yohanan is a true prophet of HaShem. I am desperate for Mashiach to come. I am desperate for justice.

  “I see them!” Yoni points toward a dull blot in the distance.

  I shade my eyes and squint on the haze, but my eyes are not young as Yoni’s.

  We walk more, and after the fourth part of an hour, we arrive opposite the place. There is a camp on the other side of the river, just next to a dozen date palms. I see some acacia trees and many tamarisk trees and a little scrubby grass.

  Many hundred men and their women and children have camped there. They all went up to Jerusalem for the feast of Sukkot, and today they all came down like we did to hear Yohanan the immerser.

  This would be a good place to sell fish. I should tell the matter to Abba when we go home. We left Jerusalem this morning on the Jericho Road with our families. We walked slow on account of my mother’s limp. Our families stopped next to Jericho to spend the night, and tomorrow they will take the Jordan Way north toward Capernaum. Our fathers said we young men could have two days to hear the prophet. Today and tomorrow only, and then we should go straight home.

  I asked Abba what should we do if Mashiach comes.

  Abba said if Mashiach comes, there will be a big war and a war needs an army and an army needs men and we are the men, so we must join Mashiach and fight the Great Satan. Otherwise, we should go home by the Jordan Way. He smirked when he said it. He does not think Mashiach will come today or tomorrow.

  I wish Mashiach will come yesterday.

  The river is fast and shallow at the fords, and we wade across in water that comes to our knees.

  On the far side, Yoni runs a hundred paces to join a crowd of men sitting on the sandy ground under the acacia trees. There are many women too, and even children. That is a wrong thing. A prophet who tells judgment on the Great Satan will put fear even in a big man. It is no place for women and children.

  Beside the river, a man sits on a large stone facing the people. He wears a tunic made of saq. It is the worst saq I ever saw. I think he wove it himself from camel’s hair. The belt around his w
aist is the skin of some dead animal. His hair is long and ragged and hangs to his waist.

  My heart thumps and my head spins. This prophet Yohanan looks like Elijah the prophet, who killed four hundred prophets of the ba’al in days of old. Here is a man I could follow into battle.

  “When will HaShem return to Jerusalem and make a justice on the Great Satan?” shouts a man on the far side of the crowd.

  I lean forward. That is the question that burns my own heart.

  Yohanan has a big voice on him. “HaShem will come when HaShem will come. Now is the time for Israel to repent on her sins. A big judgment will come on Israel. You should put away idolatry. You should prepare your hearts. Judgment will come, and that means fire and destruction and death on the wicked. After that, HaShem will return and make a new covenant with the remnant of Israel, who will be saved from judgment. All Israel should repent and learn to do the works of HaShem.”

  My hands are damp and my face is hot. I thought this prophet came to tell judgment on the Great Satan. But he tells judgment on Israel instead.

  “When will Mashiach come?” another man shouts. “Are you Mashiach?”

  I wipe my hands on my tunic.

  Yohanan shakes his head. “I am not Mashiach. I am the one who runs before Mashiach. I am the one who warns of judgment by the hand of the Great Satan at the end of the age. After judgment will come the age of Mashiach and the kingdom of HaShem. Then righteousness and justice will fill the earth. All the goyim and Samaritans will come to learn from Israel, as the prophets told long ago. But first comes judgment, and if you do not repent and do the works of HaShem, you will die in the fires of the Great Satan. So choose which you will have—judgment and death of this age, or repentance and life of the Age to Come.”

  My head aches on that. I do not wish to hear how the Great Satan will make a judgment on Israel. That is a bad news. I wish Mashiach will come and make a judgment on the Great Satan. That is a good news.

  “What should we do to be saved from the judgment by the Great Satan?” shouts a man from the back.