Son of Mary

by R. S. Ingermanson

  After that, Rabbi Yeshua talked long in private with my father and Shimon’s father, all the afternoon. Last night, we all ate a good meal in the house of Shimon’s father and told tales. I told the tale of the mighty wonder at the wedding feast. My father said it was a good tale and asked if I would go fishing in the night.

  I begged off, because I saw Rabbi Yeshua’s face while we were feasting, and I knew he would make his move today. I wish to be first to see it.

  Shimon the Rock begged off because he said he was tired, only I think he wished to lie with his woman, who stayed here during the feast with her two young children. Shimon did not look tired. He looked eager.

  Big Yaakov and Andre did not beg off, and they went fishing last night.

  Philip and Natanel went fishing also. My father offered them a dinar each, and that is a good money.

  Rabbi Yeshua’s brothers and their women slept in the house of Shimon’s father, for he has many rooms.

  Rabbi Yeshua’s mother slept in our house in my grandmother’s room.

  Rabbi Yeshua slept in my room.

  I slept lightly, and now I am rewarded, because it is the hour before dawn, and I hear Rabbi Yeshua slipping outside.

  I filled my waterskin with beer last night. I take it and follow after him at a distance of fifty paces.

  He walks south on silent feet through the streets of Capernaum.

  I follow on silent feet.

  He passes the synagogue.

  I pass the synagogue.

  He goes out through the village gate.

  I go out through the village gate.

  He walks south along the road that runs beside the lake.

  I walk south behind him. This road goes to Magdala by a walk of two hours and then turns west and goes to the Great Sea by a walk of three days and then turns south and goes to Egypt by a walk of three weeks. Rabbi Yeshua strides with strong purpose as he means to go all the way to Alexandria. Tales tell that a thousand thousands of Jews live there, and if he means to raise up an army—

  Rabbi Yeshua stops and turns.

  I freeze and try to make myself small in the darkness.

  “Yoni, come walk with me.” His voice sounds like laughter.

  I do not think he is angry on me for spying on him, so I hurry to join him.

  When I reach him, he makes a big grin on me. “You are out walking early. Where are you going?”

  “To watch you make your move.”

  “What move do you think I will make?”

  “If I knew, then the others would have wormed it out of me, and they would be here also.”

  “They would have to work hard to worm out your secrets, yes?”

  I laugh on that, for everyone says I cannot keep a secret. My father says if I think a thing once, I say it three times. But everyone is wrong. I can keep a secret, if it is a mighty secret. The trick is not to think on the matter.

  Rabbi Yeshua looks on me with sharp eyes. “What move would you make if you were me?”

  I am pleased he asks my advice. Little Yaakov would not ask my advice. That man has a face of stone and arms of iron. When I look on him, I think of David our king. When I look on Rabbi Yeshua, I do not think of David our king.

  Rabbi Yeshua raises his eyebrow. “You have no thoughts on how to make a war against the Great Satan?”

  “I do.”

  Rabbi Yeshua takes my hand and begins walking. “I wish to hear what you think.”

  We are walking together and holding hands as we are friends! My heart pounds, for I had thought Rabbi Yeshua was going to be my master. A man is not friends with his master. A man washes his master’s feet and serves him dinner and does whatever his master needs.

  “Speak,” Rabbi Yeshua says.

  My thoughts come out in a rush. “We are eleven men, and the Great Satan is too mighty for eleven men to defeat in open battle. Therefore, we must build an army, but even an army of eleven thousands would be small next to the legions of the Great Satan. Therefore, we must attack with our strongest strength at the point of the Great Satan’s weakest weakness.”

  Rabbi Yeshua nods. “And where is the Great Satan’s weakest weakness?”

  “The Great Satan has many mouths to feed in Rome, but not enough food grows in all Italy to feed those mouths.”

  “Man does not live only on bread.”

  “The Great Satan lives on bread, and bread comes from wheat, and wheat grows in Egypt. The Great Satan takes tribute from Egypt and eats for seven months in every year from the granaries of Egypt.”

  Rabbi Yeshua says nothing, but I see he is thinking.

  “It does not take many ten thousand men to destroy a granary. It takes one hot coal of fire, and one man of determination, and one moment of opportunity.”

  “And that is your plan, to burn the granaries of Egypt?”

  “I think it will go hard on the Great Satan if it loses the granaries of Egypt. Eleven men can burn many granaries. Eleven men cannot defeat the legions of Rome.”

  Rabbi Yeshua thinks on this for a few moments, but he says nothing.

  I say, “Has HaShem shown you how to make a move?”

  “HaShem told me to come this way and watch and see what I will see.”

  “But he did not tell you how to make a move?”

  “Perhaps that is how I am to know how to make a move.”

  “What is it like to be a prophet? Were you always a prophet? When you were a nursing baby, did you hear the word of HaShem? Does HaShem tell you things in your ear every moment of the day? Why are not all men prophets? Why are so few women prophets?”

  “HaShem tells me things in my ear when there is no other way to hear things. But HaShem made the great world for us to see, and if we look with the eyes of HaShem, we do not need many words from HaShem.”

  “So HaShem prefers to show you his words more than tell you his words? Is that because a man remembers a thing better when he has lived it himself than when he has been told by another?”

  Rabbi Yeshua’s mouth drops open, and his eyebrows fly up. For a moment, he seems far away. Then he looks on me and smiles. “That was well said, Yoni.”

  My heart burns inside me. My father never says I said a thing well. Neither does Big Yaakov nor Shimon the Rock.

  “Now walk with me, Yoni, and tell me what you see.”

  We walk south along the road. The light grows slowly until the red sun peers over the mountains on the east side of the lake.

  We stop and begin the morning prayer, the Shema. “Hear, Israel, the Lord our God! The Lord is One!”

  After we say the whole prayer, we begin walking again.

  Rabbi Yeshua says, “What do you see?”

  “The sun looks like the wrath of HaShem prepared for the wicked. When HaShem comes in his kingdom, he will burn their cities with a big fire as punishment for their sins. There will be weeping and gnashing of teeth when the wrath of HaShem falls on the Great Satan. There will be a bigger weeping and gnashing of teeth if the wrath of HaShem falls on us. The prophet Yohanan said the wrath will fall on us first, and the Great Satan next. What do you think?”

  Rabbi Yeshua says nothing, and we walk on.

  I saw the wrath of HaShem once when I was very young. It was only a taste, but it terrified me more than anything ever did. I am glad Rabbi Yeshua does not ask what I know on the matter, for it would horrify him. There are some tales that should not be told.

  We reach the village of Ginosar, where the hills step back away from the lake to make a broad plain with many rich farms. Two jackals fight over the carcass of a dead sheep.

  I say, “They fight over one carcass as they think there is too little for both. If they ate together in peace, they could each feast and be happy, but they will tear each other’s eyes out because they hate peace and love fighting.”

  Rabbi Yeshua nods, and we walk on.

  We reach the outskirts of Magdala. I do not like Magdala, for it is a large town. I think it might have five thousands in it, and m
aybe more. That is too many, and it makes me sad to think they cannot all know each other’s business, as we do in Capernaum. I hear angry shouts and hurt cries.

  We speed our steps.

  When we come around the corner, I see a man beating his woman with a thick stick.

  My father says when a man beats a man, that is injustice, but when a man beats his woman, it is not injustice because the woman was disobedient or burned his meal or made lewd eyes on some other man. I asked him once if he would think different if he were a woman. He gave me a beating for that, and said it is a good justice to beat a son who is conceited and arrogant. I do not think the person with the stick is the best judge of what is justice.

  Rabbi Yeshua’s hand clutches mine tight.

  I smell the sweat of his anger. I think he will fight the man. I do not think Rabbi Yeshua is afraid on the man’s stick.

  The woman kneels with her face in the dirt, cringing and sobbing.

  Rabbi Yeshua stops. He closes his eyes and cocks his head. The light of the Shekinah is on him.

  The man smites his woman across the back with the stick.

  She screams.

  The man looks on Rabbi Yeshua. “What do you want, stranger?”

  Rabbi Yeshua opens his eyes and makes a big smile. “Friend, I ask for a cup of cold water. We have walked far, and the sun is hot.”

  The man points at my waterskin. “You have water. Drink it and go your way.” He smites his woman across the hips with the stick.

  She screams.

  “Friend, I ask for a round of bread. We have walked far, and we are hungry.”

  The man scowls on us. “Go see what the fig harvesters left.” He smites the woman across the head.

  She collapses and makes no sound.

  “Friend, I ask for a walking stick. We are going on a long journey.”

  The man spits Rabbi Yeshua’s feet. Then he draws back his stick and swings it fast in a flat circle at the level of our waists.

  Rabbi Yeshua leaps inside his swing.

  He catches the man’s wrist.

  He squeezes it with a mighty squeeze.

  The stick falls from the man’s hand.

  Rabbi Yeshua twists hard on the man’s wrist, forcing him to turn with his arm behind him.

  The man shouts with a great shout. “Yehuda! Elazar!”

  Rabbi Yeshua pushes the man down onto his face in the dirt. “Yoni, take the stick and run.”

  I take the stick. It is thick and heavy in my hand. “Shall I beat the man? I think he deserves a good beating. I think if he had a good beating, he would never beat his woman again. I think—”

  Two men run around the corner of the house. Knives glint in their hands.

  “Yoni, run now!”

  I run.

  Rabbi Yeshua’s footsteps pound behind me.

  He is fast, but I am faster, and shortly I am out of Magdala on the road to the Great Sea.

  I run until I hear a shout from far behind me.

  I turn to look.

  Rabbi Yeshua has stopped and is bent over with his hands on his knees, breathing hard.

  Three men stand at the gate of the town, shaking their fists and shouting. They are too far away to hear.

  I walk back to Rabbi Yeshua. “That did not go so well.”

  Rabbi Yeshua stands again as he is listening. For a time, he says nothing. At last he looks on me with a twisted smile. “What did you see, Yoni?”

  “I saw a man beating a woman.”

  “A good man or an evil man?”

  “An evil man.”

  “And then what did you see?”

  “I saw you speak words of peace.”

  “And words of peace made the evil man good?”

  “They made him return evil words for good.”

  “Then what did you see?”

  “You spoke more words of peace.”

  “And those made the evil man good?”

  “They made him return more evil words for good.”

  “Then what did you see?”

  “You spoke more words of peace.”

  “And this time they made the evil man good?”

  “They made him return evil actions for good.”

  “Then what did you see?”

  “You disarmed the man without harming him.”

  “And that made the evil man good?”

  “It made him call for evil friends with knives.”

  “What if I killed the evil man?”

  “Then we would still be running, with those evil friends behind us.”

  “What if we burned their granaries?”

  “I do not think any road would be long enough for us to escape their vengeance.”

  Rabbi Yeshua takes my hand and begins walking along the road west toward Caesarea. “I wish to climb Mount Arbel. Show me the way.”

  We walk in silence along the road until the turning off. A dirt path on the left goes up the back side of the mountain like a long ramp. We walk the whole way in silence. I am thinking on what we saw. I wish we had a word from HaShem. There is more than one way to think on this matter. Suppose we had a hundred men in our army? Or a thousand? Or ten thousand?

  When we reach the summit, there is a straight drop down, a hundred times the height of a man. Magdala looks small below us, and the people are like ants. The Lake of Ginosar lies before us. To the north, I see the village of Ginosar. Farther on, Capernaum. Beyond them, hazy in the distance at the north end of the lake, Bethsaida. South of us is Tiberias, an evil city, Herod’s city. At the edge of sight at the south end of the lake, the Jordan River goes down toward the Salt Sea. On a clear day, I have seen the south end of the lake, but today is not a clear day, and my heart is in a big turmoil. I do not see why we have come here. I do not see how we are to fight the Great Satan. I am wondering if Rabbi Yeshua knows what he is doing. Sometimes I think Little Yaakov knows better how to make a move.

  The sun is high in the sky now. I offer Rabbi Yeshua my waterskin.

  He takes a long drink. “What did you see today, Yoni? What does HaShem show you?”

  I do not know how to answer. “What did you see, Rabbi Yeshua?”

  “I saw … the name of the first Power.”

  I shiver, for when we were walking four days from Jericho to Nazareth, Rabbi Yeshua’s brothers spent many words guessing who are the four Powers.

  “Who is the first Power? What are you going to do? Are we going to raise up an army? What do you think of my plan to destroy the Great Satan? Will Little Yaakov lead your army? Do you think he is more mighty than Shimon the Rock? When are you going to make a move?”

  Rabbi Yeshua smiles and says nothing.

  I have not known him many days, but I have learned that when he does not wish to tell his mind, he does not tell his mind.

  My whole body feels as it is filled with ants.

  I am desperate to know what move Rabbi Yeshua will make.

  I do not think it is a move Little Yaakov will like.

  And when Little Yaakov learns I helped Rabbi Yeshua plan his move …

  I hope he will not get his hands on my walking stick.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Yeshua of Nazareth

  I sit with Yoni on the mountain, admiring the fine view. My hands sweat and my breath is stolen and my heart beats a rhythm like a galloping horse.

  I know the name of the first Power.

  My brothers think the first Power is one of the enemies who surround us—Egypt or Syria or Parthia or Arabia.

  Any one of them would be a mighty foe to conquer. I do not know how I would smite Egypt or Syria or Parthia or Arabia.

  But at least I would know what it means to smite them.

  The first Power is not any of those powers. The first Power is not a nation that can be seen. The first Power has no army I can smite.

  The first Power is the Power that lives inside every man, whether he is evil or whether he is good. Every man has a yetzer hara. Our prophet Moses had a yetze
r hara. Our father David had a mighty yetzer hara. Our prophet Elijah had a great and powerful yetzer hara.

  Little Yaakov says I have no yetzer hara. Men say I am a tsaddik. Men say a tsaddik has no evil inclination.

  They are wrong.

  In Tsipori, I have seen men training for the games. Jews do not train for such things, but Greeks and Syrians do. Every man who trains has a trainer—one who tells him what he must eat and when he must sleep and how he must run and lift weights and wrestle.

  A weak athlete has a weak trainer who presses him weakly, for that is what he can endure. A middling athlete has a middling trainer who presses him middling hard, for that is what he can endure. A mighty athlete has a cruel and vicious trainer who beats him and robs him of sleep and shouts on him with rage every moment, for that is what a man must endure if he will win the crown.

  Every man has a yetzer hara, given to him to tempt him to evil and so train him in the ways of HaShem. A weak man has a weak yetzer hara. A middling man has a middling yetzer hara. A tsaddik has a cruel and vicious yetzer hara.

  I sometimes fear my yetzer hara is more cruel and vicious than I can endure. If men knew what it is to be a tsaddik, no man would ever wish to be a tsaddik.

  I think before I can go to war against the Great Satan, I must have an army that is good and pure before HaShem. Men who are not overcome by their yetzer hara. I do not know how I will find such men. It seems a foolish quest.

  It seems an impossible quest.

  I do not know how to fight this battle against other men’s yetzer hara. My own yetzer hara takes me to the limit of my strength. How am I to defeat the yetzer hara of a whole army?

  Yoni studies me with large eyes. “Rabbi Yeshua, who is the first Power?”

  I smile on him. “I prefer to show you what is the first Power, rather than tell you.”

  He laughs, for I have snared him in his own net. “Are you hungry? I am more hungry than I ever was. Did you notice the figs in the trees by the side of the road? They were as big as my head. I think two of them would fill my belly. Shall we go glean some of the leavings from the harvest? When are we going back to Capernaum? Will you make your brothers suffer as much as you make me suffer with your mysterious ways? Do you think it will rain tonight? I think it looks like rain, even though it is too early in the year. Will you give me a hint on who is the first Power? I think it is Egypt. Will you tell me if it is not Egypt?”