Son of Mary

by R. S. Ingermanson

  “Someone should explain the matter to Rabbi Yeshua,” Shimon the Rock says. His voice sounds tight in his throat.

  “I wonder who would be so bold as to explain the matter to the rabbi?” Big Yaakov says. “If only we knew some talkative boy who never worries on the matter of dishonoring his elders.”

  “There was a talkative boy here once,” says Toma Trouble. “He used to speak many words about the deep things of HaShem. But I think we lost him. I have not heard a word from him since yesterday.”

  They are all thick as mud. I cannot bear to hear them jabber any longer. “You would not know a deep thing of HaShem if you fell in it to the level of your nose.”

  Shimon the Rock makes a big laughter. “So you are not lost, Yoni! We thought you had run away or been stolen or fallen in some deep thing of HaShem and drowned.”

  The other men laugh.

  I am sick to my death of them laughing on me. I did think of a deep thing of HaShem last night. I was going to ask Rabbi Yeshua about it today, but I think I will throw it in their faces now.

  Andre squints hard on me. “Oy, I know that look. See, Yoni has a deep thing of HaShem to tell us. He has been silent, trying to make us beg. Shall we beg?”

  Big Yaakov falls on his knees in front of me. “Yoni, I beg! Tell me your deep thing of HaShem!”

  I kick hard at his underparts.

  He stops my foot with both hands. He stands and raises my foot to the level of my waist.

  I scowl on him. “Let go of my foot.”

  He begins walking while holding my foot.

  I have to hop after him to keep up.

  Rabbi Yeshua has been walking far ahead. He turns to look back on us.

  Big Yaakov lets go of my foot. “Rabbi Yeshua, Yoni has a deep thing of HaShem he wishes to tell.”

  Rabbi Yeshua’s eyebrows rise. “Then I wish to hear it. Yoni sees many deep things of HaShem.”

  Big Yaakov’s mouth falls open.

  We walk until we reach the rabbi and his mother. I had thought to tell the matter only to Rabbi Yeshua. It would be a waste of good breath to tell the matter to these dull-wits.

  “Come walk with me and Imma and tell what is the deep thing of HaShem you saw,” Rabbi Yeshua says. “But hurry. There is a thing we must do, and it will not wait.”

  I follow after him. “Yesterday, you said the kingdom is breaking in on us. And then what broke in on us?”

  “An iron bar.” Andre makes a big grin.

  “That is not deep.”

  “A very deep iron bar,” Big Yaakov says.

  “Now you are making idle talk. What was behind the iron bar?”

  “Four men,” says Toma Trouble. “Four is a deep number, yes?”

  “And what was behind the four men with the iron bar?”

  “A cripple-man,” Shimon the Rock says.

  “And what happened with the cripple-man?”

  A silence falls all around, for they do not wish to talk on the matter of the scandal Rabbi Yeshua made.

  Big Yaakov coughs on the back of his hand. That is what he does when he thinks I should stop talking.

  I hope he coughs his lips off. “Rabbi Yeshua healed the cripple-man, yes?”

  Toma Trouble makes a big scowl on me.

  “That is all your deep thing of HaShem?” Shimon the Rock asks.

  “Rabbi Yeshua has healed many cripple-men,” Big Yaakov says.

  “We expect better from the Genius of Capernaum,” Andre says.

  Toma Trouble says, “Rabbi Yeshua, what do you think on the matter Yohanan the son of Zavdai tells?”

  Rabbi Yeshua acts as he did not hear Toma Trouble. He makes quick steps, like a man who thinks only on the place he is going.

  I will have to explain the matter myself, and that is a hard labor to explain a deep thing to dull-wits. They are all like my father, who only cares that the men paid for the damage to the roof and that it will be repaired before Shabbat. He did not see that a deep thing happened in our house. People will be talking on this deep thing for many weeks. Maybe a whole year.

  “You are all blind! Did you not see? Rabbi Yeshua said the kingdom of HaShem was breaking in. The cripple-man broke in, and then Rabbi Yeshua made him whole! When Rabbi Yeshua heals a man, that is the in-breaking of the kingdom of HaShem.”

  Big Yaakov grins on me. “Yoni, you are not making a good sense. Did our genius run away? Has some dream on a woman dulled your wits?”

  “I … that is foolishness.” Heat rises in my cheeks.

  The men laugh.

  “Do not be ashamed,” Andre says. “They are only dreams, and it means you are a man at last. It is past time that you should begin having such—”

  “I did not dream on a woman! The kingdom of HaShem is a large matter, and none of you see it. You are all fools, and Rabbi Yeshua should throw you off. Wherever we go, Rabbi Yeshua tells tales of the kingdom of HaShem. Then he sends away evil spirits. What does that mean?”

  “It means evil spirits fear the coming of the kingdom of HaShem,” Shimon the Rock says.

  “No, fool! It means sending away evil spirits is the beginning of the kingdom of HaShem.”

  “That is not the kingdom of HaShem,” says Andre.

  “When Rabbi Yeshua healed the mighty leper, that is the beginning of the kingdom of HaShem.”

  “That is a bad logic you make,” says Toma Trouble.

  Shimon the Rock frowns. “The mighty works of Rabbi Yeshua are good works, but mighty works have been seen before in Israel. The kingdom of HaShem has not been seen before in Israel. When the kingdom of HaShem comes, HaShem himself will return in power and crush the goyim. When the kingdom of HaShem comes, every eye will see it.”

  “No, you are wrong. The tales Rabbi Yeshua tells are tales of a kingdom of HaShem that is hidden. It is among us, but not seen. Rabbi Yeshua’s mighty works are the beginning of the kingdom of HaShem, only hidden.”

  Big Yaakov picks up a stone and throws it in the Lake of Ginosar. It makes a big splash, and ripples go out from it. Then it lies hidden. “I think a hidden kingdom of HaShem is not the one we look for.”

  “That is not the kingdom of HaShem the prophets have told.” Shimon the Rock gives me a look as I am a fool.

  I am used to this look, but I do not mind being thought a fool by a dull-wit. “You should let Rabbi Yeshua’s words and his actions tell you what is the kingdom of HaShem. You should not tell him what is the kingdom of HaShem. His actions and his words tell the same tale, if you only had eyes to see it.”

  Shimon’s hand tightens on mine. “So you think Rabbi Yeshua’s tales of the kingdom are the kingdom?”

  For a moment, I am unable to breathe. Shimon the Rock has seen a thing even I did not see—that the telling of a tale could be part of the kingdom of HaShem. That is a very deep thing of HaShem. I am sure Shimon does not even know what he said.

  Shimon grins on me. “A tale of the kingdom is not the kingdom. A dream on a woman is not a woman.”

  The other men laugh, for Shimon the Rock makes my deep thing of HaShem sound like a big foolishness.

  I do not laugh.

  It is not a big foolishness.

  If Shimon the Rock thinks to shame me when I tell the deep things of HaShem, then I will not tell any more deep things of HaShem.

  It is not my fault if I do not understand all the meaning of the deep things of HaShem. I will. At least I see there is a deep thing to be understood.

  Shimon the Rock is a fool and does not see there is a deep thing here.

  I am twice a fool if I try to tell the matter to him.

  I throw off Shimon’s hand from mine.

  Shimon the Rock is not my friend.

  A friend does not mock his friend for trying to know the deep things of HaShem.

  Chapter Fifty-Eight

  Yeshua of Nazareth

  ‘You waste your time healing the sick, when you could be bringing in the kingdom of HaShem.’

  ‘Healing the sick is the kingd
om of HaShem.’

  ‘You waste your time telling tales.’

  ‘Telling tales is also the kingdom of HaShem.’

  ‘You waste your time with these men.’

  ‘These men are also the kingdom of HaShem.’

  ‘You waste your time on Yoni, for he is conceited and he spies on you.’

  ‘Yoni is a lamb in the heart of HaShem.’

  ‘You waste your time.’

  ‘Do I waste my time sending away evil spirits?’

  Silence.

  ‘My men are the men Abba gave me.’

  Silence.

  ‘My tales are the tales Abba gave me.’

  Silence.

  ‘I heal with the power Abba gave me.’

  ‘Where are you going today? There is nothing this way but a long line of oxcart drivers and a tax-farmer’s booth and a border and beyond it some village.’

  ‘Abba sends me this way.’

  ‘You waste time waiting here with the oxcart drivers. A man with no cart can walk through the border crossing free.’

  ‘Abba tells me to wait.’

  ‘Surely you do not think to—’

  ‘HaShem commands that you will leave me now.’

  Silence.

  I stand in line at the tax-farmer’s booth, just before the bridge over the river. Many oxcart drivers wait to pay the tax-farmer so they can pass from Herod’s lands into Philip’s lands. The tollbooth is well made of fine stone. I have not come to see the booth.

  Outside the booth are two soldiers of King Herod who guard the tolls collected here. I have not come to see the soldiers.

  Inside the booth sits a man with a stylus and a wax tablet on a lapboard across his knees. He wears a white linen tunic and a fine belt of red-dyed linen. A gold chain hangs on his neck. I have not come to see his fine clothing or his gold chain.

  I have come to see this man.

  He looks on me and his eyes widen to the size of Temple shekels and his mouth drops.

  I think today is a good day for HaShem to set this man free, but I do not know if he will choose to be set free. “Friend, do you know my name?”

  It is a foolish question. Of course he knows my name. Everybody in these parts knows my name.

  “You are Rabbi Yeshua of Nazareth, who lives here with us in Capernaum.” His voice sounds parched like the desert sands.

  It cuts my heart that he should fear me. I smile on him. “I am looking for a man in these parts. Do you know all the men around here?”

  He nods, and the fear runs out of his eyes. “Who do you look for?”

  I squat on the floor like a peasant, so I am looking up on him. Perhaps he will feel I am no threat this way. “I do not know the man’s name. I will tell you his tale, and perhaps you will know of him. Once there was a boy, the son of a Levite, who was a scribe. This boy learned to read and write and do sums from his father. He excelled in Torah and wished to study with a great sage of Israel. Then his father died of the belly fever, and his mother drowned herself in despair, and the boy was thrown out in the streets hungry.”

  The tax-farmer’s face has become pale, and his forehead is damp, though he sits in the shade of cool stone.

  I hear the Accuser whisper in his ear how this boy died long ago.

  I think of the boy he was. I wish I could hold that boy and comfort him now. I love that boy who once was, and I love this man who now is.

  “This boy found work doing sums for a corrupt tax-farmer who paid him almost nothing, but at least he could eat. He hated his work, but he was not free to leave, for he had no other way to earn bread.”

  The tax-farmer leans back, and his breath rasps like a man carrying a great weight a long way up a steep hill. “What do you want, Rabbi Yeshua?”

  I hear the Accuser complain on him how Rabbi Yeshua has come to call him a sinner.

  I have not come to call him a sinner. I have come to call him my brother.

  “This boy grew to be a man, and his master died, and he rose to the position of tax-farmer himself. He learned he could charge men two dinars and pay the king one. He learned that bread tastes like ashes when all men scorn him. He learned that sleep has no sweetness when a man is not free. He learned that a man can walk unchained beneath the sun and yet be held captive by the Accuser. This man cried out to HaShem for freedom, and HaShem heard his cry.”

  The tax-farmer cannot look my eye.

  I hear the Accuser shout the tax-farmer to call the soldiers to send me away, for I am here to plunder the king.

  I am here to take plunder, but not from the king.

  “Friend, I must find this man, for I have a word from HaShem for him.”

  Tears pool in the tax-farmer’s eyes, but his face is set hard and tight against me.

  The Accuser sings to him a song of easy wealth, of sinful women, of fine wine. It sings how I am a destroyer of joy.

  “Friend, do you know this man I look for?”

  The tax-farmer’s chin quivers and his whole body shakes. “This man’s name is called … Mattityahu the son of Halfai. His friends call him Mattai.”

  I hear the Accuser rage on him, screaming how HaShem hates him, how his sins reach up to heaven, how he can never be free of his guilt.

  I know he can be free. I want freedom for him, but this man cannot be given freedom.

  He must take it.

  “Friend, I have a tale for this man Mattai, if you should see him. In the days of King David, his own son Absalom rose up against him. Absalom used his father’s concubines on the palace roof for a pleasure. He roused all Israel against his father. He made a big war on his father in hope to kill him and rule in his place. First the war went ill against David, and he fled for his life on foot. Then the war went ill against Absalom, and he fled for his life on a mule. His hair caught in the branches of an oak tree. King David’s commander Joab found Absalom and put a javelin through his heart. That was what Absalom expected, for that was what he deserved. But when King David heard the news, he fell on his face and wept. He threw dirt in his own hair. He mourned his son with many tears. King David would have forgiven his son. But his son fled before him and was killed without need by the Accuser.”

  I stand, and my heart beats hard and fast, for now comes my final throw. “Friend, I beg you. If you see this Mattai, please, you will tell him Rabbi Yeshua longs to call him brother. Rabbi Yeshua calls him to live and not die. Rabbi Yeshua calls him into the kingdom of HaShem.”

  The tax-farmer’s face is stone.

  I have said all I can say. I cannot command freedom.

  Abba says I must go now.

  I turn and walk out of the tollbooth.

  Yoni and Shimon the Rock and Big Yaakov and the others all stare on me as I am a leper.

  They are right, for I am a leper, I am a zonah, I am a mamzer, I am a tax-farmer, I am all who cry out to Abba for freedom.

  The Accuser sneers me for a fool. The Accusers says if I would plunder it, I must take its captives by force.

  I walk, but I hear nothing.

  I walk more, but still I hear nothing.

  I walk more, and my heart feels as it is balanced on the edge of a knife, but still—

  “Rabbi, wait!”

  I spin to look.

  Mattai has come out of the tollbooth. He throws his wax tablet and stylus on the ground. He stares after me, frozen, his eyes begging for mercy.

  My heart rises and joy floods my veins, for it is enough. I hear the sound of the Messengers shouting around the Throne. I hear the music of HaShem dancing.

  I run to Mattai and throw my arms around him and give him a kiss and a kiss and a kiss. “My brother, do you wish to be free?”

  His arms seize me. “Leave me, Rabbi, for … I am a sinful man.”

  “HaShem forgives you all that you ever did.” My heart swims in joy, and I laugh with a great laugh.

  High up and far away, the Accuser shrieks as it flees.

  Mattai laughs for his freedom. He laughs for his joy. He l
aughs for the in-breaking of the kingdom of HaShem. At last he releases me from his grip. “Rabbi, there is a poor, foolish man who wishes to follow after you, only he is not worthy—”

  “HaShem says you are worthy. Follow me. I will give you a mighty work to do.”

  I hear a hiss of disbelief behind me.

  I turn to look on my men, for I have made a new scandal.

  Shimon’s face is stone.

  Andre and Big Yaakov cross their arms on their chests.

  Toma the boat maker’s mouth hangs open as he cannot believe what his eyes tell.

  Imma stares on me as I am a tax-farmer.

  Philip and Natanel cannot look my eye.

  Yoni’s eyes gleam with a big shock.

  I take Mattai’s hand in mine, and I smile on Yoni, for he is my hope. If he understands, then the rest will also. “When a man is set free, that is the in-breaking of the kingdom of HaShem. Those with eyes will see this deep thing of HaShem.”

  Yoni’s face does not move, and his scowl says he does not accept.

  My chest aches. I do not wish to lose Yoni. I do not wish to lose any of them.

  I have plundered the Accuser’s storehouse. I beg Abba that the Accuser will not plunder mine.

  Chapter Fifty-Nine

  Shimon of Capernaum

  ‘It is an outrage beyond bearing. You should throw off the rabbi.’

  ‘I … I promised to follow after him, wherever he goes, until forever.’

  ‘You were tricked. He is a deceiver. He tells tales of the kingdom of HaShem, but where is the kingdom of HaShem?’

  ‘Yes, but—’

  ‘He calls lepers clean, when only a priest can call a leper clean.’

  ‘Yes, but—’

  ‘He tells forgiveness to a man, when only HaShem can forgive sins.’

  ‘Yes, but—’

  ‘Now he walks with this tax-farmer, this haryo. He gave him a kiss and a kiss and a kiss! He holds hands with him now as he walks! Rabbi Yeshua is a friend of your enemy. You must throw him off, or you are a friend of a tax-farmer.’

  My head is filled with a big fog. My heart aches for its pounding. Bile rises in my throat. I would vomit if it would give me relief, but nothing will give me relief. I do not know what to do. I should throw off Rabbi Yeshua, but I made a promise, and I am a man of my word. But have I not been deceived? Rabbi Yeshua is not what I thought he was.