Son of Mary

by R. S. Ingermanson

  I stand and take his hand and pull him to his feet. “I will answer the most pressing of your many ten thousand questions. Yes, I am hungry. I saw a few figs left, and I think you have overspoken them, but I am willing to eat them anyway, if they are no larger than the black of my eye.”

  We walk down the back slope of Mount Arbel. The sun is high in the sky now, and there is a fresh, damp wind blowing from the lake. It smells like rain.

  By a walk of one hour we reach the road again and walk toward Magdala. We take care not to go by the way we came. Yoni still carries the stout walking stick, but the man we saw is armed with rage, and that is a mighty weapon. His yetzer hara controls him, and how am I to defeat that? It is a hard riddle.

  We walk through the fig orchards of Magdala. The harvesters left a few figs, small ones. They are overripe. We eat all we can hold, until Yoni says fig juice oozes from our ears. My stomach is full, but my mind races.

  How can a man defeat his yetzer hara? That would be a hard matter, for I never knew a man to defeat his yetzer hara, but that is not what HaShem calls me to do.

  How can a man defeat another man’s yetzer hara? That is impossible, but even that is not what HaShem calls me to do.

  How can a man defeat the yetzer hara of a whole army? That is worse than impossible. That cannot be what HaShem calls me to do. And yet I fear it is what HaShem calls me to do. I have not heard a word from HaShem on the matter. But I think it is what I saw today, and so it weighs much with me. If I cannot solve the riddle, then surely HaShem will tell a word in my ear.

  But if HaShem does not tell a word in my ear, it means I can solve the riddle.

  We walk north on the road. It is a rough dirt road, thick with ruts, but if you follow it north by a walk of one day, you will reach a good Roman road paved with stone. That road goes to Damascus and divides there to go to Antioch and Babylon. Some say you can walk by Roman roads all the way to India in the east and Spain in the west.

  The sun shines, but the wind blows harder, wet and cold. I pull my cloak up around my shoulders.

  When we reach the farmland at Ginosar, Yoni points at the carcass of the sheep we saw this morning. The jackals are gone, and a wolf gnaws at the bones. “Two jackals are no match for one wolf, yes?”

  I take his hand in mine, for Yoni is a friend. He thinks I am his master who can answer any question. And I am his master, but only because his questions make me see further than either of us could see before.

  I feel a thought welling up inside me. There is a thing stronger than a man’s yetzer hara. It is a thing I have known since I was the smallest boy, a thing that sticks closer than a brother. A thing I see in a man, rarely. A thing I see in Yoni, sometimes. A thing I feel in myself, always.

  But it is not a thing I can command.

  HaShem is showing me something new.

  I do not understand it, not yet.

  I do not see how this thing will defeat the Great Satan.

  All I know is that the Shekinah in me is stronger than the yetzer hara in me.

  I do not know how to give the Shekinah to another man, but I know that it must be possible. I know that HaShem will show me.

  Rain begins falling on us, fine, cold drops.

  I run, for I am mad with happiness. “Run, Yoni! Run with me!”

  Yoni races after me, hooting with glee.

  I do not think he knows why I am happy, but he feels it, and it makes his heart glad also.

  I am more joyful than I ever was.

  HaShem showed me more of my journey today. Not all. Not the whole long road to redeem Israel.

  HaShem showed me the next step. He told me he would show it, and he did. If he told it all in one moment, perhaps I would collapse under the weight of it, as I would collapse if he told me I must run all the way to India.

  But I know enough.

  And I will know more soon.

  I do not know all the long road to defeat the first Power.

  I only know the next step on that road.

  Each day, another step, and HaShem will take me all the way.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Miryam of Nazareth

  I slept poorly last night. They put me in the room with the grandmother of the house, and she snores. At dawn, I give up trying to sleep and go see what work I can do to help the women of the house.

  Yoni’s mother is named Shlomzion. They do in Capernaum as we do in Nazareth—every person with a common name must have a nickname. Hers is Imma Shalom. She is well named, mother of peace, for she is broad and warm and kind.

  I walk to the village well with Imma Shalom to fetch water.

  She talks all the way, as fast as that boy Yoni. She has two sons and five daughters. The sons are the oldest and the youngest, Big Yaakov and Yoni. The five girls are in between, and all are married now. And these daughters live with their lords all in the House of Zavdai!

  I am shocked on the matter. That must be a very great family, if a man marries a woman and comes to live in her father’s house. In our village, a man marries a woman and brings her into his own father’s house.

  My son told me that the House of Zavdai is one of the mighty families of Capernaum, and now I think he underspoke the matter. Imma Shalom says they are a family of priests, and there have been sages in their clan.

  Imma Shalom tells that Yoni is a man already, although I thought he was no more than ten. They call him the Genius of Capernaum. Next year, he is to go to Jerusalem to study with a great sage in Israel. They hope he will be taken by Rabbi Shammai or Rabbi Gamliel. Even I know those names, for they are the greatest sages of our age. My sons love to hear them expound Torah when we go to the feasts in Jerusalem.

  When we return to the House of Zavdai, it is all in a roar.

  The youngest daughter of the house is named Elisheva, and she tells that Yoni and Yeshua are gone. She was awake an hour before dawn and saw Yoni going outside and thought he went to look on the lake. But he never came back, and his room is empty, the room where Yeshua was sleeping.

  My heart beats on my ribs for my fear. “What if they went to make a war on the Great Satan already?”

  Elisheva takes my waterpot and smiles on me with kindness. “If they went to make a war, they will be back soon, for they took no men with them.”

  My mind says that is a good saying, but my heart does not know it, and it smites my chest.

  Elisheva takes my hand. “Come down to the fishing pier with me. We can see if they went to help the men bring in the night catch.”

  I walk with her to the pier. The houses of Capernaum are made of some strange black stone I never saw before. It gives all the village a dark, angry look.

  Elisheva is fourteen, and she loves her brother Yoni. She talks even more than he does, and before we have passed the synagogue, she tells how he came to have his nickname. His true name is Yohanan. When Elisheva was a small child, she could not say such a big name, so she called him Yoni, and it stuck. He is the baby of the family, and a kind boy, even if he is conceited. She says he should be conceited, for there never was such a mighty genius since King Solomon.

  That is saying much, and I think it is oversaid. I will ask my son if Yoni is such a big genius as that.

  When we reach the fishing pier, we find only the lord of the family, Zavdai, who is short and stout and fierce like Big Yaakov.

  “Abba, where is Yoni?” Elisheva asks.

  Zavdai scowls on her. “How should I know? Maybe fallen in the lake.”

  Zavdai frightens me. I clutch Elisheva’s hand.

  She swats at his arm. “Abba, do not make such a bad joke on him.”

  Zavdai raises his hand to shade his eyes and squints in the rising sun. “The boats are coming in. When you find Yoni, tell him to come give us a help with the fish, since he begged off going out last night. If he begs off again, I will let Big Yaakov throw him in the lake.”

  Elisheva kisses her father on the cheek. “When Yoni is a great sage in Israel, you will not make
a joke on throwing him in the lake.”

  Zavdai growls something I cannot hear, but there is a look of pride in his eyes. I do not think Yoni will be thrown in the lake.

  Elisheva takes my hand, and we walk along the beach. It is covered with stones the size of my fist. She points toward a small cove to the north. “Yoni likes to hide his clothes and swim there naked with his friends. Perhaps he took Rabbi Yeshua.”

  My whole body is in a big sweat. “My son does not know how to swim.”

  “Perhaps Yoni is teaching him.”

  I do not wish Yoni to teach my son to swim. My feet drag all the way to the cove.

  It is empty.

  I do not know which is worse—finding my son naked and dead in the water, or not finding him.

  Elisheva points to a large house near the synagogue. “Perhaps they went to the House of Yonah to see Shimon the Rock. Your other sons are all staying there.”

  I like that better. Of course, my son went there. He can pray the morning prayers with Little Yaakov and the others.

  My feet are light all the way to the House of Yonah.

  Yeshua is not there. Yoni is not there. Nobody has seen them.

  Elisheva and I walk all through Capernaum looking for my son and Yoni.

  Capernaum is a big village, more than a hundred houses. Maybe two hundreds, but I never had to count so high. At last we go back to the House of Zavdai.

  Yeshua and Yoni are still not there.

  When the men come in from the fishing pier, we all eat the morning meal. My heart feels like a lump of lead.

  The morning drags by, and then the afternoon. It is the sixth day of the week, and soon it will be time to make Shabbat. I do not feel like making Shabbat. I want to know where is my son. My other sons all gather in the House of Zavdai, waiting to know what is the news. Little Yaakov and Shimon the Rock sit in a corner talking and wearing grim faces.

  I watch them and wonder which of them will be first in my son’s army. Little Yaakov thinks it should be him, for he is Yeshua’s brother and has a mighty yetzer hara.

  But I think Shimon the Rock is as strong as Little Yaakov. I think he also has a mighty yetzer hara, and he comes from a big family with a good name in Capernaum. He thinks it should be him.

  Yeshua will have to make a hard choice, and one of them will be angry. I had not thought on that.

  Late in the afternoon, Elisheva shouts in the street. “Yoni! Rabbi Yeshua! Where have you been all day?”

  I hurry out to see.

  “We went to Magdala!” Yoni shouts. “On the way, we saw the sun rising like the wrath of HaShem. And we saw jackals fighting over a dead sheep. And we saw an evil man beating his woman with a stick, and Rabbi Yeshua fought the man and took away his stick and beat him soundly, but then his friends chased us with knives, and we were nearly killed, and Rabbi Yeshua fought them more powerfully than any man ever did, and they ran away terrified, and then we climbed Mount Arbel and HaShem spoke to us and told us who is the first Power, and now we are ready to make a big war on the Great Satan!”

  My heart thumps again. My son fought with knife-men! I rush to Yeshua and wrap my arms around him. “Have pity on an old woman. You were gone all the day without leaving word. And you were fighting knife-men.”

  My son gives me a kiss and a kiss and a kiss. “Yoni may have overtold the tale. I went out early to hear a word from HaShem, and Yoni followed, and I was glad of his help to make a strategy.”

  Big Yaakov scowls on Yoni. “What does a boy know on strategy?”

  Shimon the Rock’s eyes look like thunder. “Did you hear a word from HaShem?”

  Little Yaakov wears a stone face. “Why did you leave no word with us?”

  Andre and Philip and Natanel and my other sons stand back silent, but I see in their faces they think the same.

  I think my son does not see his danger.

  “Rabbi Yeshua heard who is the first Power, but he will not tell!” Yoni says. “I think it is Egypt. I think we should go there and burn the granaries and then raise up an army of many ten thousand men and fight the legions of the Great Satan.”

  Little Yaakov shakes his head. “Yeshua, the first Power cannot be Egypt, yes? It must be Syria. Why should we walk three weeks to Alexandria when we can walk four days to Damascus?”

  Sweat stands out on Shimon the Rock’s forehead. “Friends, this is not the way a man makes a strategy on the Great Satan. We need weapons first. We need an army. We need a man to command the army.”

  My stomach is all in a knot. Yeshua is a tsaddik. What does a tsaddik know on making a war?

  Yeshua looks toward the sun, which hangs two hours above the horizon. “Shabbat will be here soon. Yoni and I are tired and dirty. I wish to find the public baths. I wish to welcome in the Shabbat. I wish to spend a day resting as HaShem commanded. Tomorrow night, after the going out of Shabbat, I wish to eat a good meal with all the friends HaShem has given me. When the meal is done, then will be a good time to speak on the matter of the first Power. Then I will tell you what I have decided.”

  He has decided.

  I feel as my stomach is full of swarming locusts. My son has decided to go to war. He will leave me all alone.

  And all his men are angry on him because he decided without them.

  He decided with the help of the least of them, that little Yoni.

  My son is a good and humble man, but that is his weakness, for he does not know what is ambition and what is envy.

  He does not see the pit he is about to fall into, whichever way he may turn.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Yaakov of Nazareth

  It has been a good Shabbat and we have eaten a good meal, and now I am ready to go to war. I am more impatient than I ever was. Yeshua should have made his move at the feast in Jerusalem, and now it is two weeks past and the winter rains will begin in a month. It rained a little yesterday, but the season of rain is not yet. We do not have much time to make a move.

  We went to the synagogue this morning with the new men Yeshua has gathered. Shimon the Rock knows all Capernaum, and he introduced us. There are many men in Capernaum. Not all of them are fit for battle, but I think we could call up three hundreds. It is a start.

  We have finished a large dinner at the family house of Shimon the Rock. His father’s name is called Yonah, and he has a good name in these parts. He is old, almost fifty, and has some wisdom about him, and I could see at the synagogue that men hold him in honor. That will count for something.

  That boy Yoni’s family is also here—Big Yaakov and his father, Zavdai, and his mother and his five sisters and their lords and children.

  Yonah raises his hand for silence.

  Both clans quiet at once.

  Yonah says, “Rabbi Yeshua, we have heard many words on you. My sons tell big tales on you. Your brothers tell big tales on you. But you do not tell big tales on yourself. You have been with us now three days. When will you make your move, and what will it be?”

  Yeshua has that look on him now, as he is listening to a voice no other man can hear. The large courtyard of Yonah’s house falls silent as Sheol. Even the children stare on Yeshua with a big awe in their eyes.

  Yeshua stands.

  For a moment I cannot take breath.

  “Some say Egypt is the first Power, that we should make a war on it.”

  That boy Yoni grins like a monkey. I have heard him say Egypt fifty times.

  “And some say Syria is the first Power, that we should make a war on it.”

  I feel all eyes hard on me. My hands feel hot and my neck feels cold.

  “There is a thing to be said for each of these, for they are ancient satans of Israel, our enemies for many hundred years,” Yeshua says. “I wish to hear the tale of each. Yoni, you will tell the tale of Egypt. Little Yaakov, you will tell the tale of Syria.”

  I do not like this matter. Yoni is a boy of many words. I am not a man of smooth words.

  Yeshua reclines in his place.
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  Yoni leaps up and strides to the center of the courtyard.

  I do not like that boy. He thinks he is something because he is clever.

  Yoni stands as still as stone for a moment, and then he begins his tale.

  “In the days of Joseph, our father Jacob went down to Egypt with all his clan, seventy men, plus women and children. And they settled in the land of Egypt, and time passed, and they had many sons and daughters.”

  I close my eyes and … I see the land of Egypt in my mind’s eye. I see many hundred Hebrews working their lands and tending their flocks. A blink of an eye and a new generation arises, many thousand Hebrews working their lands and tending their flocks. Another blink of an eye and a new generation arises, many ten thousand Hebrews working their lands and tending their flocks. Another blink of an eye and a new generation arises, many hundred thousand Hebrews working their lands and tending their flocks.

  I see the Pharaoh on his throne, shaking in a big terror to see so many Hebrews. I see him make orders to his officers. I see his officers make orders to his soldiers. I see his soldiers make slaves on our fathers.

  I see our men beaten. I see our women used for a pleasure. I see our children thrown in the river.

  I see our people cry out to HaShem to make a justice on Egypt.

  But I do not see justice.

  I see a child, born of a woman, hidden in a basket, floating on the river. I see the daughter of the Pharaoh find the child. I see her take the boy into her home. I see the boy grow into a man, a strong man, a bold man, a man of action.

  I see the man Moses strike down an Egyptian who was beating one of our people. I see him flee to the desert, where he finds refuge, takes a woman, tends his flocks, grows old, turns timid. I see him waiting and waiting without ever making a move.

  My fists clench. I want to shout on him to make a move.