Son of Mary

by R. S. Ingermanson

  The Accuser says this Messenger was some stranger from another village who begat me. If the villagers had ever heard of this stranger, they would say it is a good logic, for it explains the matter.

  But the tale I read in Imma’s eyes is a tale of a mighty wonder, a tale that HaShem did a new thing. That is a strange tale and it sounds like a bad logic. Imma believes this tale, but that does not prove the tale, for she does not know a good logic from a bad logic.

  I told Imma I believed her tale, but now the Accuser has put hard questions in my heart. When the Messenger came near Imma, she fainted. An evil man might do a wicked thing on a girl who fainted, and she would never know. There were no others to see. There is nobody to say what the Messenger did while Imma lay in a faint. If the Messenger was some wicked stranger with a fine face, he could have begat me. Then Torah says Imma would be innocent, for she was taken by force in a lonely place.

  If that were all I knew, I would say Imma’s tale is a bad logic and the Accuser’s tale is a good logic. Also, I would say my blood father is some wicked man, and I am born from some cruel sin on Imma.

  I do not have a logic to say no to the Accuser’s tale.

  But there is another matter to consider. All my life, I have known the Shekinah. When I was a small boy, I thought everyone felt the Presence at all times in all places. Then I learned my brothers do not. Imma does not. Abba did not. Yaakov Mega did not. My friends do not. The villagers do not. Galileans do not. Judeans do not. Even the prophet Yohanan does not.

  I never met anyone who walks in the Shekinah as I do. I have done no good work to merit the Presence. Yet even in my earliest memory—the day Little Yaakov was born—the Shekinah was with me, on me, in me.

  If I am begotten by some wicked stranger, how would I know the Shekinah as I do?

  If I am made by HaShem, how would I not know the Shekinah as I do?

  I am not a philosophos, but I think that is a point in favor of Imma’s tale. I do not think a philosophos would call it a good logic. But he would not call it a bad logic either. It is not a logic at all. It is only a point. I think it is a strong point, but it is not a logic.

  I do not believe there is a logic to settle every matter. When you see the sky is blue, you do not need a logic to know it, for seeing a thing is a matter outside logic. Also, when you hear a logic, you know in your heart the logic is true, for seeing the truth of a logic is also a matter outside logic. Otherwise, you would need a second logic to prove you saw the truth of the first logic, and a third logic to prove the second, and a fourth to prove the third, and the matter would never end.

  HaShem knows if Imma’s tale is true, and if he chooses to tell me, then I will know the matter. If he chooses not to tell me, it is because my heart already knows the matter.

  My heart says Imma’s tale is true. If it is false, then it is false, and the Accuser told true.

  But I think Imma is true and the Accuser is a liar.

  I believe Imma’s tale, because it explains why I am not like other men in the matter of the Shekinah. The Accuser’s tale cannot explain this.

  If Imma’s tale is true, then no man begat me. That is why my father refused to say he begat me. That is why it is a lie that some man of the village begat me. I am no son of adultery, and the smirch is false. I can never prove to the village that the smirch is false. But I can walk light on my feet. I can stop my longing to know my blood father. I know my true father, and that is HaShem.

  But still I have a smirch on my name, and how will I remove? That is what Yoni calls a paradox, but I cannot ask Yoni’s help in the matter. Yoni would not believe Imma’s tale any more than the village would believe. He would mock it to scorn, and he would be right to mock it to scorn. I myself would mock it to scorn, only I have the matter of the Shekinah inside me that makes a mock on all mockery and scorn.

  But I cannot show the Shekinah to the village. I cannot make a logic on the matter of the Shekinah to the village.

  I must find a way to remove the smirch, when there is no way.

  Unless I remove the smirch, I will never redeem Israel, for the village will raise a stench if I try.

  And that is another matter I must think on. What does it mean to redeem Israel?

  All my life, I was told that to redeem Israel means to take up the sword and destroy the Great Satan. I thought there was a thing wrong with me, because I do not wish to take up the sword. But all my life, I was also told there is a smirch on my name, that Imma played the zonah. I thought there was a thing wrong with me, on account of the smirch.

  Now I am sure the smirch is a house built on sand. Is this tale of redeeming Israel also built on sand? Am I truly to take up the sword? Am I truly to be Mashiach? Am I truly to defeat the Great Satan? Am I truly to rule on the throne of my father David?

  Tomorrow is Shabbat.

  Pesach comes on the fifth day of next week.

  I told my brothers I would make a move on the Shabbat after Pesach. That was HaShem speaking through me, so it was a true word. I will make a move a week from tomorrow. I do not know what move I will make, but I will make a move.

  I have one week to rethink all I ever knew in my life so I will know how to make a move.

  Part 3: The Mamzer Boy

  Spring, AD 30

  Once there was a mamzer boy

  A mamzer boy

  A mamzer boy.

  Once there was a mamzer boy

  Yeshua was his name.

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Miryam of Nazareth

  “Yeshua, will you make a move tomorrow?” Little Yaakov asks.

  My stomach feels tight when I hear his voice, for he sounds angry on Yeshua. When he looks on me, I think he is angry on me. I do not know what I have done.

  It is the going out of the sixth day of the week. We had Pesach yesterday, and it was a good Pesach. But Yeshua disappeared this morning very early. When we all awoke, he was gone. Little Yaakov and Yosi and Thin Shimon and Yehuda Dreamhead went to the Temple to hear Rabbi Shammai. When they came home, they all wore angry faces.

  Yeshua ate his evening meal as he is in a daze. He has walked all this week as he is in a daze. I do not know what he is thinking. He does not tell what he has been doing, but I think he has been praying to HaShem. I think he goes every day to that cave of his friend Elazar, but I did not ask, and Yeshua has not told. There are new lines of grief and worry around his eyes.

  “Yeshua, what move will you make tomorrow?” Little Yaakov asks.

  Yeshua’s eyebrows crowd against each other. “I … we will go to the Temple tomorrow, and HaShem will make a move.”

  I do not know what that means.

  “You do not know what you will do.” Little Yaakov scowls on him.

  Yeshua sighs with a big sigh.

  I am afraid on what will happen tomorrow. Yeshua promised he would make a move tomorrow, but he still does not know what he will do. He has told us all week that HaShem will show him, but it is plain as his nose that HaShem has not shown him. If Yeshua does nothing, I am afraid Little Yaakov will make a move.

  Yosi takes a long sip of wine. “Rabbi Shammai says the time is now to destroy the Great Satan. He says now is the time told by the prophet Daniel, that Mashiach should come and make an end on our sins and reconcile us to HaShem and restore Jerusalem. Rabbi Shammai says he is an old man and before he dies, he demands to see HaShem redeem Israel.”

  Thin Shimon and Yehuda Dreamhead begin chanting. “We want Mashiach now! We want Mashiach now!”

  My stomach makes a cramp when I hear that. When Mashiach rises and makes a big war on the Great Satan, all my sons will go fight in his army and leave me alone. Who will defend me?

  “Imma.” Yeshua puts a hand on my shoulder. “Before there is a war, I will make a justice on you.”

  Little Yaakov hisses. His face is dark, and he scowls on Yeshua.

  “You have a thing to say?” Yeshua says.

  Little Yaakov shakes his head.

  “S
ay what you have to say,” Yeshua says.

  Little Yaakov says nothing.

  Yosi looks as he will burst for his impatience.

  “Yosi, you have a thing to say?”

  Yosi looks on Yeshua. He looks on me. He looks on Yeshua again. He clamps his lips tight.

  Thin Shimon picks at a callus on his right thumb.

  “Thin Shimon, you have a thing to say?”

  Thin Shimon looks only on his fingers. He says nothing.

  Yehuda Dreamhead’s eyes are shut tight. He is a bad liar and can never keep a secret.

  “Yehuda Dreamhead, you have a thing to say?”

  Yehuda shakes his head.

  “Yehuda Dreamhead, look on me.”

  Yehuda’s eyes crack open to the width of a hair.

  “Yehuda Dreamhead, look on me in full.”

  Yehuda’s eyes open all the way. His face is red as a zonah’s lips.

  Yeshua looks in his eyes. I think he is reading Yehuda’s heart. He reads long, and as he reads, his face turns pale. “You think Imma should make a justice on her own name.”

  I feel as I am stabbed in the face.

  “You think Imma should confess her sin and the village will forgive.”

  Yehuda Dreamhead closes his eyes again.

  Thin Shimon tears off the callus on his thumb.

  Yosi’s lips make a thin line in his face.

  Little Yaakov scowls on Yehuda Dreamhead.

  I want to run away somewhere and hide. My sons think I sinned. I always thought the worst thing in the world was that my mother and father thought I sinned. Now I know there is a thing worse. The sons I nursed at my own bosoms think I sinned.

  “Imma did not sin,” Yeshua says.

  Little Yaakov stands and takes the hand of his woman and leaves the room.

  Yosi leaves.

  Thin Shimon leaves.

  Yehuda Dreamhead looks on me and he looks on Yeshua and he looks on his woman. Then he takes his woman’s hand and leaves the room.

  Yeshua sighs deeply. There are only him and me left.

  “What move will you make tomorrow?” I ask.

  “HaShem will show me.”

  “When will you make a justice on me?”

  “Imma, HaShem does not hate our village.”

  I cannot breathe. I feel as the room is closing in on me. HaShem does too hate the village, more than any village that ever was. “You should call down fire from heaven on the village.”

  “I will not call down fire on my friends.”

  That is a viper bite in my heart, that he calls them friends. “You should make a curse on the village.”

  “I will not make a curse on my friends.”

  That is another pair of fangs in my heart. “Then what? You will grin on them and make jokes with them and never tell them their sin?”

  Yeshua winces as I have slapped him. “I … you ask a hard thing.”

  “What is a hard thing?”

  “To tell my friends their sin.”

  “They did an evil thing on me. All my life they did evil on me. They would stone me tomorrow and make a joy on it. Why will you not tell them their sin?”

  “They think you are a sinner, and they tell you your sin, and it makes you cry. You think they are sinners, and you wish me to tell them their sin and make them cry.”

  I hate when he makes a logic on me. “I want you to make a justice on me. I want you to punish them for what they did.”

  “I do not know how to make a justice.”

  “I will tell you how to make a justice. You should find the secret place where Abba hid the Ring of Justice. If you have the Ring of Justice, you can judge the village. Whatever you command them, they must do it. If you curse them, HaShem will bring it to pass.”

  “Imma, that is not the way of the Ring. The prophet told how in the last days, HaShem will raise up a righteous Branch of David, to make justice and righteousness on the earth. The Ring of Justice is only a sign of the Branch of David. The Ring is not a Power, to force my will on men.”

  I shake my head on his foolishness. “The Ring of Justice is too a Power! Yaakov Mega used it for a Power, and who could say no to him?”

  “No, Imma, that is an evil Power, to force men to obey. I will not do it.”

  “Find the Ring of Justice and make a justice on me.”

  “I will make a justice, Imma. On the day HaShem shows me how, I will make a justice on you. But HaShem does not hate the village.”

  I am sick to my death of him saying so. HaShem hates the village. HaShem makes a scorn on the village. HaShem looks on the village as it is haryo.

  I stand and go out of the room.

  I do not look back.

  Yeshua is kind, and I always loved him for it.

  But there is such a thing as too much kindness. He shows too much kindness on the village.

  I think he will never make a justice on me.

  I think he will never make a move.

  I think he will be the worst Mashiach that ever was.

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Yaakov of Nazareth

  I hate my brother now more than I ever did. “Yeshua, you must make a move today.”

  Yeshua’s forehead wrinkles with small lines. “HaShem will make a move today. I told you he would make a move on Shabbat in the Temple. It is Shabbat, and here we are in the Temple. HaShem will make a move.”

  I despise this womanish indecision. Yeshua refuses to stand and fight like a man. When we were small children, I fought to defend him, but he did not fight to defend me. He let those evil boys kick me in the underparts, and he did nothing. If he means to be Mashiach, he should raise up an army and take up the sword and make a big war on the Great Satan.

  But he does not do any of those things. He waits and he waits, hoping HaShem will make him Mashiach. HaShem will not make him Mashiach if he does not act like Mashiach.

  Yeshua will only dither and delay. Perhaps he will make some small move against the Great Satan. Even though it is only a small move, the Great Satan will rise up in wrath and hold down our nation and kick us in the underparts many hundred times. The Great Satan will crush us, and we will be worse off than before. Half a move is worse than none.

  There was never a better day than today to make a move. All the city heard how Herod put the prophet Yohanan in prison. All the city is angry on Herod. All the city is angry on the chief priests. When all the city is angry, that is a good time to make a move.

  The Temple is filled with angry men. When we came this morning, Yeshua led us here to the southwest corner of the outer courts. This is the place called the pinnacle, which looks out over the city. He did not say why, but I can guess. The Temple Mount at this corner is very high. I think if I dropped a stone over the parapet, it would take three beats of my heart to hit the ground. From here, a man with a big voice can be heard by many thousand men. The people below us on the street are small as ants.

  I peer down on them, and my stomach rises into my throat. Today is the day of HaShem. Today Yeshua should make his move, or else he should stand aside so a better man can make a move.

  I jab my finger at Yeshua’s face. “Your friends ran like women. They are no friends, and it is good they left.”

  “They are good friends.”

  “Good friends do not run for fear of a trouble when there is no trouble. King Herod trembles in his palace and does nothing.” I see his palace from here, close enough to count the German guards in the courtyard. There are only five. I see many ten thousand sons of Israel in the streets. Many more ten thousand in the Temple courts behind us.

  “HaShem says my friends are good friends.”

  “When will HaShem tell you to make a move?”

  “When he decides I should make a move.”

  “What if HaShem waits for you to make a move? When a viper rises up in your path, you do not wait for HaShem to tell you to crush its head. You pick up a stone and crush its head. Or else it bites you in the leg and you die.” />
  “HaShem says I am to wait.”

  “And so you wait and you wait and you wait! What if he spoke already and you failed to hear? What if he waits for you to do what he said?”

  “HaShem says I am to wait.”

  “What if HaShem speaks to you through other men? You are not the only prophet. Yohanan the prophet said the ax is laid at the root of the tree. What does that mean? It means now is the time, yes?”

  “HaShem says I am to wait for him.”

  “That is a big foolishness! I do not wish to wait for you to wait. HaShem tells me it is time to make a move.”

  “I will wait on HaShem.”

  “Then I will make a move myself.” In an instant, I see how to force Yeshua to make a move. I put my hands flat on the stone parapet, which comes to the level of my waist.

  “What … move will you make?” Yeshua’s voice cracks for his fear.

  I climb on the parapet, which is flat and broad. I stand to my full height, looking down on the city below me.

  “Little Yaakov! Do not be foolish!”

  My heart drums fast in my chest. The wind blows in my hair. I feel more alive than I ever did. I know that now is the time to make a move.

  “Little Yaakov! Come off the parapet!”

  In a big voice, I begin chanting the psalm of David the king.

  “The man who lives

  In the secret place of El,

  He will rest in the shadow of Shaddai.

  I will say to Yah

  That he is my shelter,

  That he is my fortress.

  He is my God,

  And my trust is all in him.”

  Yeshua’s face is pale. “Little Yaakov, I command you to come down.”

  I shake my head. “I will not come down.”

  “You will be blown off by the wind and be killed.”

  “I will not be killed if you come up and stand with me.”

  “Never.”

  “Then I will be killed. I will leap down and be smashed on the street.”

  “Come down now. Men are looking on you.”