Son of Mary

by R. S. Ingermanson

  I am sitting under an acacia tree with Yehuda Dreamhead and Andre, in the place where Andre played that bad trick on me last fall. It is three days since Aunt Miryam and Uncle Elazar went back to Bethany, and now we need more food, so Rabbi Yeshua took Philip and Natanel the hireling to the village to buy more after our morning meal.

  I make a grin on Yehuda Dreamhead. “If I tell you a tale, will you teach me another wrestling trick?”

  He makes a grin back on me. “If you tell a good tale, I will answer one of your many hundred questions.”

  I think he offers a good bargain, only I will make a cheat on him and tell such a mighty tale, he will answer two questions. “What tale should I tell?”

  “Tell the tale how Father Adam got a woman.”

  I tell the tale how HaShem planted a garden with four rivers all around it, and put Father Adam to work.

  Father Adam was lonely and complained on the matter to HaShem.

  HaShem made two animals and brought them to Father Adam.

  Father Adam named them bull and cow and put them to work, but still he was lonely.

  HaShem made two more animals and brought them to Father Adam.

  Father Adam named them he-goat and she-goat and put them to work, but still he was lonely.

  HaShem made two more animals and brought them to Father Adam.

  Father Adam named them he-donkey and she-donkey and put them to work, but still he was lonely.

  HaShem made a pair of every animal in the world and brought them to Father Adam.

  Father Adam named each pair and put them to work, but still he was lonely.

  When all the animals were made, Father Adam complained on the matter to HaShem.

  HaShem gave Father Adam a great wineskin, filled with a strong wine.

  Father Adam drank it all and fell in a deep sleep.

  HaShem took out a rib from Father Adam and made a woman for him.

  When Father Adam awoke, he saw the woman, and his flesh roused, and he took the woman and lay with her, and then he went in the river to immerse because he was unclean.

  When I finish the tale, Andre grins on Yehuda Dreamhead. “You immersed in the river early this morning. Did you have a dream on your woman?”

  Yehuda Dreamhead’s face turns pink. “I have been gone long from my woman. Of course I dreamed on her and woke up unclean. Did you dream on your woman two nights ago? You got up early and went away and came back with wet hair and a wet tunic.”

  Andre shrugs. “My woman dreamed on me and came to me in the night and wore me out by making me lie with her many times.”

  Yehuda Dreamhead says, “That is a good thing, to have a lewd woman, yes?”

  Andre smirks on me. “So Yoni, when did you last dream on a woman?”

  I never yet dreamed on a woman. Shimon the Rock explained the matter to me once, how a man with no woman sometimes dreams on a woman, and his flesh is roused, and he lies with her, and his seed goes out of him, and he has to immerse afterward. But he said I will not dream on a woman until I get my man growth, and I am still waiting on that.

  I do not wish to admit I never dreamed on a woman, so I make a dodge on the matter. “Yehuda Dreamhead, explain the matter why Rabbi Yeshua has no woman.”

  Yehuda Dreamhead makes a big scowl. “That is a matter not to speak on.”

  “Why is it a matter not to speak on? You promised you would answer a question if I told you a tale.”

  “You should ask some other question.”

  “You should answer the question I ask.”

  “You should ask Yeshua, if you wish to know.”

  “You are making a dodge on the matter. Every man takes a woman by the time he is twenty, but Rabbi Yeshua is already more than thirty. You and all your brothers have women, but Rabbi Yeshua does not. My father says when a man does not take a woman, there is a scandal in the matter. So I am afraid to ask Rabbi Yeshua, in case there is a scandal in the matter.”

  “We do not speak on the matter in our family.”

  I look on him with narrow eyes. Now I am sure there is a scandal in the matter.

  Yehuda Dreamhead says, “Ask some other question.”

  I have many ten thousand other questions, but I ask only a few. “Why is Little Yaakov always so angry? He looks like a man who will explode for his rage, all the day long. Also, why does he act like he is the firstborn son, when Rabbi Yeshua is the firstborn son? He should give honor to Rabbi Yeshua, but he acts as Rabbi Yeshua should give honor to him. Also, when do you think Rabbi Yeshua will make his move? He does not seem like a man eager to fight, but if he is a son of David he should be a mighty man of war, and how can he be if he does not love battle? Also, who will he choose to be commander of his armies? Will it be Shimon the Rock or Little Yaakov? Both of them will be mighty men, but whichever man Rabbi Yeshua chooses, the other will be angry. How can Rabbi Yeshua solve this paradox? Also—”

  Yehuda Dreamhead holds his head in his hands as he thinks it will come off his shoulders. “That is too many questions! I promised only one answer.”

  I grin on him. “Then you should make it a large answer. You are a good tales-man. Tell me a tale on Little Yaakov that will answer all my questions.”

  Yehuda Dreamhead sighs with a big sigh. He makes a guilty look behind him toward the village where Rabbi Yeshua went. He lowers his voice. “I will tell you a tale of Little Yaakov, but you must promise never to speak on the matter to anyone.”

  I smell a scandal coming. Now I will get answers to many questions. “I swear by The Name I will never speak on the matter.”

  Andre says, “I swear by The Name I will never speak on the matter.”

  Yehuda Dreamhead moves closer to me and Andre. “This is the Tale of Little Yaakov, which I heard with these ears, straight from his own mouth, on the day I asked him why our brother does not have a woman …”

  The Tale of Little Yaakov

  My name is Little Yaakov, and I am the happiest boy in the village.

  I have spent the whole morning running in and out of the house, fetching things for Imma, helping her with the food, holding Baby Yosi to make him sleep, and playing with the wooden ball Abba carved for me.

  Baby Yosi cries out again.

  Imma picks him up and rocks him for a moment and takes him inside her tunic to feed him. “Little Yaakov, run find Yeshua and tell him to come home and eat.”

  I am glad of a chance to help, so I run through the village looking for my brother. I love my brother more than anyone in the world. He is always kind to me. The whole village loves my brother. I see Shimon the baker making bread. I ask him where is my brother Yeshua. He tells that he saw Yeshua going toward the village spring with the other boys his age.

  I run up the street to the end of the village. I pass the leather-man’s piss-pool and run fast through the narrows and up the long hill to the spring.

  The boys are a little way past the spring. They stand in a circle with Yeshua in the middle.

  I run toward them shouting, “Yeshua! Imma says you are to come home and eat!”

  But nobody hears me. The boys are shouting words on Yeshua.

  Hard words.

  Jeering words.

  Words I do not know.

  But I know they use cruel voices.

  Yeshua has a look on his face as he has been kicked in the stomach. Tears fill his eyes, and his mouth hangs open as he does not know what to say.

  “Son of a zonah! Who begat you, mamzer? You are nothing but donkey haryo. We should throw you off the precipice. Your mother should be thrown off the precipice. She lies with men for a dinar.”

  The biggest of the boys steps toward Yeshua. His name is called Yoseph, and he is son of the leather-man, and he always reeks of the piss-pool where his father tans hides.

  Yoseph pushes hard on Yeshua’s chest with both hands. “Mamzer!”

  Yeshua stumbles backward.

  Another boy punches him in the small of the back from behind.

  I am mo
re angry than I ever was. I run fast toward the boys, howling like a wolf. I leap on the back of Yoseph the leather-man’s son.

  He staggers forward.

  I lock my arms around his neck. I kick on his legs.

  He falls to the ground.

  I punch him twice in the head.

  Strong arms pull me off.

  I jump backward and spin hard and tear myself free from some boy’s grip. He is bigger than me, but I have rage on my side. I leap straight up at his face and smash his nose with my forehead.

  He falls back. Blood runs out of his nose. He has the face of a dead fish. His mouth hangs open, and his eyes look shiny.

  Another boy rushes at me.

  I punch him in the stomach as hard as I can.

  All the rest leap on me at once.

  I scream and writhe and try to tear loose, but they are five boys of the age of seven, and I am one boy of the age of four.

  Now they have me on the ground, holding me down.

  Yoseph the leather-man’s son scowls on me. “You are donkey haryo, Little Yaakov. Your mother is a zonah.”

  I do not know what is a zonah.

  He grins on me with a curled lip. “Ha! You do not know what is a zonah, do you?”

  “Yeshua, hit them!” I shout.

  Yeshua says in a quiet voice, “Let my brother go. He did nothing to you.”

  Yoseph the leather-man’s son turns and kicks Yeshua in the stomach. He throws him on his face on the ground and sits on his back and pulls his arms back hard. “Your mother lies with men for a dinar.”

  I do not know what it means for a woman to lie with men. I can think of nothing to say.

  Yoseph laughs on me in a big happiness. “Little Yaakov is more a fool than I thought. He does not know the matter of a man lying with a woman!”

  The other boys roar. “We should explain the matter.”

  They are boys of seven and they know nothing, but they are gleeful to tell what they know, using their fingers to make shapes to explain the matter as boys of seven know it.

  I do not believe them. The matter makes no sense to me. I do not see the reason for this thing they tell me.

  Yoseph the leather-man’s son laughs on me again. “Your mother spreads her legs for any man for a dinar! That is what is a zonah. She enticed some man of the village, and he begat your brother. That is what is a mamzer.”

  I spit at him. “You stink like piss, and your breath smells like haryo.”

  His face makes a big rage on me. He flies off Yeshua’s back.

  The other boys still hold me pinned to the ground.

  Yoseph steps toward me slow and grinning.

  He kicks me hard in the underparts.

  I scream like fire. I never felt such a big pain. Like a hammer smashing up inside my belly all the way to my heart.

  The other boys leap up, laughing like jackals.

  I cannot move for my big agony.

  A second boy kicks me in the underparts.

  The pain is ten times more, for my underparts were bruised already.

  A third kicks me in the underparts.

  The pain is ten times more again.

  A fourth comes to kick me.

  I scream so hard I cannot breathe. On a sudden, the world goes dark.

  When I wake up, Yeshua is carrying me home.

  My underparts feel as they are swollen to the size of my head. They scream with a big agony, more than I ever knew.

  Tears leak out of Yeshua’s eyes. “Little Yaakov, you showed a big courage.”

  The pain in my heart is more than the pain in my underparts. Yeshua should have fought the boys to defend me. I fought to defend him. Why did he not fight to defend me?

  When we come to our house, Yeshua tells the matter to Imma.

  I wait for Imma to say the boys are liars.

  She cries and holds me, but she does not say the boys are liars.

  I lie in the corner of our house all day in a big agony. My underparts ache as the iron-man is beating them with a hammer on the anvil.

  When Abba and our grandfather come home, Yeshua tells the matter to them.

  I wait for them to say the boys are liars.

  Our grandfather’s face turns dark and he goes out in a rage.

  Abba goes out after him.

  Our grandfather shouts on him to stay in the house.

  Abba comes back in with a face like a beaten dog.

  An hour later, our grandfather comes back. “I told the matter to the leather-man, and he mocked me and said my son’s woman is a zonah and my grandson has the smirch of a mamzer.”

  I wait for him to say Imma is not a zonah and Yeshua does not have the smirch of a mamzer.

  Our grandfather says, “I showed the boy my Ring of Justice and gave him my judgment, that if he touches my grandsons again, I will drown him in his father’s piss-pool.”

  Abba says, “That is not a righteous justice. That is a harsh justice. The prophet said—”

  “Silence, fool.” Our grandfather freezes Abba with a look. “Do not question the man who holds the Ring of Justice. You will wear the Ring yourself someday, if I judge you are worthy, and then you will know that justice must sometimes be harsh or else it is not a justice.”

  Abba’s face turns hard and he dares to make an answer on our grandfather. “That boy is evil, but telling him a threat will not change his ways.”

  Our grandfather says, “You know nothing at all. That boy is evil, and after I drown him in his father’s piss-pool, he will no longer be evil. That is my judgment, and you will not make a question on my judgment, until forever.”

  I do not understand this matter. Imma is the best woman in all the world. Why does the leather-man call her zonah? Why does he say Yeshua has the smirch of a mamzer?

  I wait for them to explain the matter.

  Our grandfather wears a look of rage all the evening, but he does not explain the matter.

  Abba does not explain the matter.

  Imma does not explain the matter.

  They do not explain it that week.

  They do not explain it that year.

  They do not explain it ever.

  But after that, I hear whispers in the village.

  You can cage a secret, but you can never kill it, and the secret will out.

  The village says Imma enticed a man before Abba took her in his house. Some say she enticed Abba. Some say she played the zonah and enticed another man, and so Yeshua is the son of adultery, a mamzer.

  That is a riddle too deep for me.

  I know Imma is good and she would never entice a man.

  I know Abba was a tsaddik all his life, and he would never be enticed by a woman.

  I know Abba claimed Yeshua for his son.

  If that was all I knew, I would say the village is cruel and makes idle gossip.

  Only I also know that Imma never once said Abba begat Yeshua.

  Also, Abba never once said he begat Yeshua.

  If Abba begat Yeshua, why will they not say it?

  They could remove the smirch of the mamzer with a word. But they refuse to say it.

  I tried once to ask on the matter, why they will not say Abba begat Yeshua.

  My grandfather made a rage on me. He said in a hard voice we must never speak on the matter. He said one does not speak on a matter that shames a woman.

  Then I knew that my grandfather thought Imma played the zonah.

  That is a knife in my heart, a big agony more than any kick in the underparts ever was.

  My name is Little Yaakov, and I am the angriest boy in the village.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Yoni of Capernaum

  When Yehuda Dreamhead finishes the Tale of Little Yaakov, all my heart is a big confusion. Rabbi Yeshua has a paradox, and how will he solve it?

  The rabbis will say he is not a mamzer, that is what I know. The village hazzan explained the matter to me once. Torah does not tell what is a mamzer, exactly. Some say it is one thing. Some
say it is another. But Torah means whatever the rabbis say it means.

  The rabbis debated the matter and decided what is a mamzer. He is a child born to a woman who cannot make a Torah marriage with the man who begat him.

  Also, the rabbis say the word of the father decides who is his son. So if a man claims a child for his son, then he is his son, because no man would claim a son he did not beget. And if a man ever did claim a son he did not beget, he would still be his son, because the claim of the father decides the matter, because that is what Torah means, because that is what the rabbis decided it means.

  But now Rabbi Yeshua’s father is dead and can no longer say what is his claim. So his father’s claim is whatever the village decides his father claimed. If the village honors his father’s memory, they will say he claimed Rabbi Yeshua for his son. But if the village decides to misremember the matter, they will say his father did not really claim Rabbi Yeshua for his son, and who will tell them no? Only his father’s near-relatives, if they are strong of voice.

  I say, “Yehuda Dreamhead, what does the village say on the matter of your brother?”

  “All the village loves my brother and calls him son of Yoseph. Only there is a smirch on his name, because the leather-man and his father say Yeshua is a mamzer.”

  “And what does the village say of your mother?”

  A dark look. “They call her zonah.”

  I think that is a bad matter. The village knows there is a paradox, and they do not know how to solve it, so they honor the man and shame the woman. That means their hearts are divided on the matter. “Is that why no man of the village will give Rabbi Yeshua their daughter to be his woman?”

  Yehuda Dreamhead sighs with a big sigh. “They all say many words, how they do not believe the smirch themselves, only they fear that others might believe he is mamzer, and then their grandchildren would be mamzer to the tenth generation, so what can they do?”

  “That is a mighty smirch, to last so long. A smirch should fade away.”

  Andre wears a big frown. “What will happen if Rabbi Yeshua makes a move? He says he is son of David—”