Son of Mary

by R. S. Ingermanson

  “That still does not look so hard.”

  “We will see if it is hard when you do it yourself, instead of looking on me doing it.” Andre brings his shoulders back to touch the ground. “There, that is once with the bridge. Now you do it once, and we will see if it is hard.”

  Andre stands, and I lie on the grass. I raise my lower back to the start of the bridge. Then I push back with my legs to make the backward arch. I feel the force of it in my neck.

  “Hold there to the count of five,” Andre says.

  I hold to the count of five.

  “Now back to the start of the bridge,” Andre says.

  I lower myself back to the start of the bridge.

  “That is once on the bridge, and you did it well. Better than I thought you would. It is good you did it on the soft grass, because you are soft like a woman.”

  I scowl on Andre. “What do you mean, I am soft like a woman?”

  “I mean you are soft like a woman. A real wrestler fights on bare dirt, but that will be for some other day. Today you should do it on grass until you are not so soft.”

  “Who said I am soft? I did not ask you to teach me to wrestle like a woman. I wish to wrestle like a man. When the war comes, Mashiach’s men will not fight on soft grass. I should do it on bare dirt.”

  Andre shakes his head. “Do not make a blame on me that you are soft. I say you should do it only on the grass.”

  I leap up and kick the grass. “You said you would teach me! So teach me, and do not treat me like some woman.”

  Andre paces back and forth. “It will be a bad matter if you wear down your soft body on hard ground and cannot walk for three days for your soreness. Your brother will be angry on me. Shimon will make a blame—”

  “I will do it on bare dirt like a real wrestler!” I shout on him. “I swore by The Name, and I will do it! If I am sore, then let Shimon make a blame on me.”

  Andre sighs and looks all around. “Over there is a good place. Help me bring the cloaks with us.”

  We walk a hundred paces away from the camp to a spot where there is no grass nor thorns nor bushes. The ground here has soft dirt, but also many stones.

  Andre picks out all the small stones and sticks and stubble. “It is not a real arena, but it is enough to practice making a bridge. Yaakov will be jealous when he comes back and sees you already know the first lesson, even though he never taught you.”

  I lie in the dirt and make the start of the bridge. I push up and backward and hold myself in an arch to the count of five. Then I come back to the start.

  Andre grins on me. “That was well done, Yoni! I think you do it better already than Yaakov ever did. His back is so thick he can hardly make an arch, but you make a big arch that a wild dog could run under.”

  I grin on him. Yaakov never says I do a thing well. Neither does my father. That is why I like Andre, because when I do a thing well, he says so.

  Andre says, “That was one time. I will sit in the shade and make a count until you fill up the rest of the hundred. Only do not be lazy and make a cheat, because I will be watching.”

  I am more happy than I ever was.

  I make a big arch and then come down to the dirt again. “Two!”

  I make another arch and come down to the dirt again. “Three!”

  After ten times, it is not so easy.

  After twenty times, I see why Andre says it is hard.

  After fifty times, my arms and back and neck are very tired, but I refuse to stop, because I swore by The Name.

  After seventy times, I am more weary than I ever was, but I do not stop.

  After eighty times, I think I will vomit, but I do not stop.

  After ninety times, I am sweating with a big sweat and my tunic is wet all through, but I do not stop.

  After I finish the hundredth time, Andre shouts with a big shout. “That was well done, Yoni! I never saw anyone make such a good bridge. If they had a competition on making bridges at Olympia, you would win the olive crown. Yaakov will be angry that you know so much already.”

  I grin on him and stand up slow. All my body feels weak and sore. My arms never hurt so much. My legs feel as they will make a big cramp. My neck feels as it is on fire. But I will make a big shock on Yaakov when he sees what I have learned already. Now he cannot make a dodge on me anymore. He will have to teach me the next lesson. Or else Andre will, or Shimon.

  Andre stands and grins on me. “I did not think you would do it, Yoni. You are not a boy anymore. You are a man.”

  We take up the cloaks and walk back to the camp, grinning.

  Shimon and Yaakov are not back yet, but there are still many hundred men of Israel sitting in the shade of the trees, and many women and some children.

  As we get closer, a man sees us and makes a big grin.

  He nudges his woman and juts his chin toward us, and his woman makes a big grin.

  More men look on us and make a big grin and nudge their women.

  Then more.

  Then all the men look on us and make a big grin, and their women too, and their children.

  Then all the people are laughing.

  I do not see what is funny.

  When we get close, one of the men shouts, “Did you catch the pig, boy?”

  I do not know what they mean by a pig.

  Then I see Andre laughing.

  He falls to his knees, slapping the ground, roaring with a big laughter.

  A drop of mud rolls down my face.

  I touch my hair to see where it came from.

  All my head is covered in mud.

  All my hands are covered in mud.

  The front of my tunic is covered in thin mud.

  The back of my tunic is covered in thick mud.

  And now I see the evil joke Andre played on me.

  I sweated a big sweat in the hot sun. The sweat and the dust made mud. All my tunic is a big mud. My arms and feet and hair and face are a big mud. And I never noticed because all my thoughts were on completing the hundred. That is why they call me a genius, because I can put all my thoughts on one thing and forget all the rest of the world.

  Andre shrieks and howls for his laughter.

  All the men shriek and howl for their laughter. All the women shriek and howl. All the children.

  When Shimon and Yaakov come back, they will shriek and howl for their laughter.

  It is not a good joke.

  While I stand there wishing I will shrink into a small ant and run away, I see Yohanan the immerser coming back.

  He takes his seat and begins telling repentance to Israel.

  All the men stop their laughing and listen to the prophet.

  I make a big scowl on Andre and sit and think how I will make a revenge on him.

  I keep looking toward the village where Shimon and Yaakov went, but they are taking long to return. I hope Yohanan will tell us to immerse before they get back. Then I can go in the river and immerse and wash off the mud and pretend I never made myself filthy as a pig.

  Yohanan speaks long, and still Shimon and Yaakov have not returned.

  My stomach complains on me for my hunger, but I hope Shimon and Yaakov will be slow.

  More people come to hear the prophet Yohanan, and more and more. Yohanan talks and talks and talks and the afternoon wears away and still Shimon and Yaakov have not returned.

  At last, Yohanan shouts all the men to make a repentance and then immerse in the river.

  I already made a repentance yesterday, so I jump to my feet and walk fast toward the river.

  Andre walks close behind me. “I thought you repented yesterday.”

  I walk faster. “It does no harm to repent a second time. You should try it the first time.”

  “I repented yesterday and I am clean,” Andre says.

  “Perhaps you have a new thing to repent on today.”

  We reach the river’s edge.

  Andre makes a big grin and does not go down in the river.

  I go do
wn in the river and immerse myself. The river is cold and dirty, but it washes off the mud from out of my face and my hair. I would take off my tunic, but my arms are too tired from the hundred times. My whole body aches. I feel heavy as a stone.

  I try to scrub a small spot on the front of my tunic, but it will not get clean. And the back of my tunic must be worse. Now I have made a big trouble for myself. I do not know how to make a tunic clean. That is women’s work, and I never learned it. I am afraid the mud will never come out. Imma will make a big rage on me when she sees it. Abba will beat me for ruining a good tunic.

  When I come out of the river, Andre grins on me. “You were not long in the water. That was a fast repentance.”

  He is a fool who does not even understand the matter of repentance and immersing. Immersing is not repentance. You repent first and purify your heart. Then you immerse after and purify your body. I understand the difference and Andre does not, but still I am the one with the muddy tunic. That is not fair.

  My eyes fall on five men talking with Yohanan the immerser. One is a man with strong arms and a thin, pinched face and a deep wisdom in his eyes. I think he has been fasting much, to have such eyes. I think he is a tsaddik. I think I see the scorch marks of the Shekinah on him.

  Yohanan is telling some matter to the five men. Their faces turn pale. Perhaps he is telling the wrath of HaShem on them.

  I move closer to hear what they say.

  “… or be k-killed?” says one of the men to Yohanan.

  The look on Yohanan’s face freezes my blood. He puts both hands on the shoulders of the tsaddik. “Destroy the fourth Power, Yeshua from Nazareth, son of David. If you can.”

  My knees are like water when I hear the fear in Yohanan’s voice. What is this fourth Power he speaks on? It sounds more mighty than any army of men. I come closer and peer on the face of this man, Yeshua from Nazareth. The prophet called him son of David! My heart jumps to double speed. But Yeshua from Nazareth does not have the look of a warrior. If I passed him in the street and did not look on his face, I would think he was no different from any son of Adam. His shoulders are strong and his arms thick and his hands calloused.

  But when I look on his face, I see the Shekinah glowing inside him.

  Inside him.

  I never saw the Shekinah inside a man before. I saw the Shekinah on people, but not inside them.

  All my breath feels as it is stolen from me.

  Yohanan the immerser sees me staring. He points to Yeshua. “See, here is a man who is a lamb of the very heart of HaShem!”

  I think he underspeaks the matter. Yeshua from Nazareth looks quiet and peaceful. But it is not only lambs that are quiet and peaceful. Lions are also quiet and peaceful when they are not on the hunt. I think it will take a man who is a lion of the heart of HaShem to destroy this fourth Power, whatever that is.

  All at once, I feel a burning in my heart to know what is the fourth Power, and the third, and the second, and the first. I am dying to know what sort of man should be sent to destroy these Powers.

  And I want to know what sort of man is sent to do a thing that terrifies Yohanan the immerser, who is a mighty prophet of HaShem.

  Who is this Yeshua from Nazareth? Why did the prophet call him son of David, unless he means …

  All my skin feels as it is poked with many ten thousand needles.

  Yohanan looks all around at the many hundred people who are immersing, and his face shows that he had forgotten them. He spins in a big haste and goes down in the water.

  I stare on Yeshua from Nazareth. I think there is a mighty thing here.

  I step closer to the five men, for I wish to speak with Yeshua from Nazareth. His face is raw with sun and wind, and his tunic is torn and stained. I think he has been traveling long in the desert. When he looks on me, his eyes glow.

  I feel my heart leap like a lamb in springtime. This man has been many days with the Shekinah. His skin is scorched by the sun, but his soul is scorched by HaShem.

  He smiles a big smile on me. “My name is called Yeshua.” He has a strong voice, and it warms me when I hear it.

  “My name is called Yoni.” I do not tell him I am the Genius of Capernaum. If I say so, he will think I am conceited. Anyway, he will find out soon enough.

  I point to Andre. “My friend’s name is called Andre.”

  Yeshua studies me and he studies Andre. “You have come here to meet HaShem, yes?”

  I think he sees I have been in the Shekinah. I wish to know what it means to be the lamb of HaShem’s heart. But I do not know how to say so.

  I ask, “Where did you come from?” It is a foolish question, but this moment I do not feel like the Genius of Capernaum.

  He grins on me. “Nazareth.”

  I already knew that, but I see in his eyes that he knows I ask where has he been traveling, to be so scorched by sun and wind and Shekinah. He makes a test on me, to see if I can read his eyes. I do not care where he was born and where he has lived. This man has been with HaShem. That is what I care about. He is a tsaddik, a holy man of Israel.

  But he is more than a tsaddik. I think he is a teacher of men—a rabbi—for there is Wisdom in his eyes, and rabbis are the wisest of men. I wish to be a rabbi someday, if HaShem wills it. But first, I must find one to teach me, one who knows more than the village hazzan.

  “Rabbi, where are you staying?” I think Shimon and Yaakov will wish to meet this man.

  Rabbi Yeshua smiles again. “Come and see.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Yoni of Capernaum

  The men with Rabbi Yeshua are his brothers. His whole family has a place at the far edge of the camp in the thin shade of a large tamarisk tree.

  Rabbi Yeshua’s mother is there, and three other women. The youngest wears a virgin’s veil over her face. She has beautiful eyes. Her mother tells me proudly that she is to be married soon, for she has reached her thirteenth year.

  I am glad men do not marry when they are thirteen, for I do not feel ready to take a woman. I do not understand why women marry when they are only thirteen, if it is true they are full of foolishness, as the village hazzan says. If men are wiser and more mature, why do they wait until they are eighteen or even twenty before they marry?

  Andre and I sit on the ground with the family of Rabbi Yeshua. Nobody asks why my tunic is muddy like a boy who wrestles with a pig.

  I ask Rabbi Yeshua on the matter of the four Powers.

  His face turns hard. He tells me all the words Yohanan the immerser told him.

  I ask if he is really a son of David.

  His eyes are more fierce than I ever saw. He says he is son of Yoseph the tsaddik, son of Yaakov Mega, son of David.

  I ask him when is the kingdom of HaShem to come in, and why Yohanan the immerser says there will be a judgment on Israel first by the hand of the Great Satan. He thinks long and says that is a hard matter to understand. Then I see Shimon and Yaakov returning with food at last.

  Andre goes to fetch them.

  I stay with Rabbi Yeshua. I do not wish to lose sight of him until I understand the matter of the Shekinah. I know in my heart that Rabbi Yeshua sees the deep things of HaShem. He has the eyes of a man who sees more than other men. Rabbi Yeshua looks on me now, measuring my wisdom. I do not need to tell him I hope to be a great sage in Israel. He sees it is so, and I see that he sees.

  “You have felt the Shekinah?” Rabbi Yeshua says.

  “When I immersed yesterday.”

  “Where do you come from?”

  “Capernaum.” I show him my rough hands. “We are fish-men. Next year I will live in Jerusalem and study Torah with a great sage of Israel. My family are priests, and my grandfather’s brother was a sage, one of the Forty Heroes.”

  Rabbi Yeshua looks deep in my eyes. “I see you love Torah.”

  I think I never saw so much Torah as I see in his eyes. I do not understand how Torah can be in a man’s eyes, but I know it is so. I think I like Rabbi Yeshua very much.
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  Andre returns with Shimon and Yaakov.

  I shout on them, “Shimon! Yaakov! Come meet Rabbi Yeshua! He is a tsaddik and a prophet and a son of David, and Yohanan the immerser prophesied on him that he is to destroy the four Powers!”

  Shimon’s mouth hangs open like a fish mouth.

  Rabbi Yeshua stands and goes to greet them. “My name is called Yeshua.”

  Sweat springs out on Shimon’s forehead, and he looks as his knees should fail him. “My n-name is called Shimon.”

  I wonder why Shimon shakes like that.

  Rabbi Yeshua measures him with his eyes. “My third brother is also named Shimon. We call him Thin Shimon, and I will call you Shimon the Rock, for you are a mighty tower.”

  I think Rabbi Yeshua has measured Shimon very well. That is a good name, and from now on, I will call him Shimon the Rock also.

  My brother steps forward. “My name is called Yaakov.”

  Rabbi Yeshua gives him a strong right hand. “A good name. My first brother is called Little Yaakov, so I will call you Big Yaakov.”

  Little Yaakov comes to greet my brother. He is a tall man, and he grips my brother’s hand with a thick hand that looks as it could crush stone. “It is good to meet you, Big Yaakov.”

  Big Yaakov is built like a stone jar, short and stout. He grins a mighty grin, for he is more than a head shorter than Little Yaakov, but he also has a thick hand that could crush stone. “An honor to know you, Little Yaakov.”

  Both of them seem very pleased on this joke. I think they will forge a mighty friendship, for they are cut from the same metal, bold and fierce.

  We all sit on the ground.

  Rabbi Yeshua sits next to his sister, holding her hand.

  My breath catches in my throat. Rabbi Yeshua treats his sister in public as she is a man and a friend—the way I wish to treat Aunt Miryam. I never knew a man in Israel who had a woman for a friend. There is a deep thing here.

  Shimon the Rock leans forward. “Rabbi Yeshua, how long have you followed after the prophet Yohanan?”

  “I came down from Nazareth two months ago when I heard HaShem had raised up a new prophet in Israel.”