Son of Mary

by R. S. Ingermanson

“I—”

  “You stink of piss and your woman is ugly and your son is haryo, and I wish your granddaughters will be barren. I wish you will die in your sins. I wish the tales are true that evil men go to Gehenna when they die. I wish you will feel the fire there for the whole twelve months appointed for wicked men. I wish—”

  “Imma.” Little Yaakov pulls me away. “Imma, come home with us.”

  “If your son comes here, we will crush him,” says Old Yonatan. “Tell the mamzer that—we will crush him.”

  I spit in his direction.

  He spits back at me. “Spreadlegs!”

  “Imma, enough!” Little Yaakov picks me up and turns toward home.

  I let him carry me. All my body burns with my hate. When we reach our house, I collapse on a bench and cry for my rage. But I also feel glad on one thing.

  I stood up to my tormentor. I never did that before in all my life. His scorn still burns me like fire, but I gave him back my own scorn, twice as much.

  I am not a weak old woman anymore.

  I am a strong old woman.

  I am brave of the village.

  When Yeshua comes here, I will ask him to call down fire from heaven on them.

  When he sees how strong and brave I am, he will do it.

  Miryam of Nazareth

  When we reach the village spring, I put down my waterpot and sit on a large stone. “Show me.”

  Thin Shimon looks back down the path toward the village. He looks all around us. He sits beside me and reaches in his belt and takes out a leather pouch.

  He pours it into my open hand.

  The Ring of Justice gleams bright like a sword.

  A rush of joy runs all through my body. All the world becomes a blur. “Where did you find it, you clever boy?”

  Thin Shimon hides the Ring back in the pouch and puts it in his belt. “In a secret place where I will hide it again until Yeshua comes back to make a justice on you.”

  “Do your brothers know you found it?”

  “Only you, Imma. Little Yaakov would take it for himself, if he knew.”

  “You are the cleverest boy that ever was.”

  Thin Shimon grins on me. “When will Yeshua come back to the village?”

  “He means to go to Cana tomorrow to see Shlomi Dancefeet and then back to Capernaum before Shabbat. After Shabbat, he leaves for Jerusalem for Sukkot.”

  “We could take the Ring to him in Jerusalem.”

  I shake my head. “It is not safe to take it so far. Not on the Samaritan Road. I will make a beg on him to come here after Sukkot. That will be a good time to make a justice on me.”

  “The village is angry on him. The leather-man says he will crush him.”

  “The moment Yeshua comes in the village, find the Ring and then stay close to Yeshua. When you see he is in a big danger, put it in his hand in that moment. He will know what to do.”

  “What if he refuses it?”

  “He will not refuse it if he knows he is about to die.”

  Thin Shimon wears a grim face. “If he refuses it, I will give it to Little Yaakov.”

  I thank HaShem for my clever son, for he saw a thing I did not. I wish Yeshua will make a justice on me. He is my firstborn, and that is his duty and his honor.

  But if he will not do it, Little Yaakov will.

  By one son or another, I will have my justice.

  Chapter Sixty-Six

  Shimon of Capernaum

  The day is growing late, and we are just reaching the edges of Magdala, and I know we will reach Capernaum tonight if we hurry, and I am on fire to get there. We were gone two whole weeks this time, and it is a sore trial to be away from my woman so long.

  It is not a good sense, what we have been doing. We walked to the far end of Galilee and back, to no gain. We stayed long in Tsipori, which is the chief city of Galilee. We could have raised up an army there to fight the Great Satan. Instead, Rabbi Yeshua healed many people and sent away evil spirits and told tales of the kingdom of HaShem.

  Only he made no move to bring in the kingdom of HaShem.

  Now we are going home, and I am sick in my heart. It feels as we have done nothing all the summer. When Rabbi Yeshua called us to follow him last spring, I thought we would instantly raise up a mighty army and attack the Great Satan. But now after four months, we are still only eight men who follow the rabbi. That is not an army. Someone should explain the matter to the rabbi, only not me.

  I walk beside Rabbi Yeshua, thinking on my woman.

  Only it is hard to think on her, because Yoni keeps asking many questions.

  “Rabbi Yeshua, why did we not go to Nazareth when we were so close? Why did your mother stay there, instead of coming back with us? When will you make a big army and fight the Great Satan? Will Little Yaakov command your army? What did you tell your brothers, to make them so angry? Will we reach Capernaum tonight? I think Shimon the Rock is eager to see his woman, what do you think? He looks eager. Can you teach me how to heal people as you do?”

  I hear the hiss of Big Yaakov’s breath behind us. “Yoni, hush your impudent questions, or I will box your ears.”

  Yoni covers his ears with his hands. “I do not see why it is impudent to wish to do what my master does.”

  Rabbi Yeshua stops and stares on Yoni for a moment. A smile creases his face. He begins laughing.

  I do not think it is funny. He smiles on Yoni’s foolishness, when he should give him a good beating. My father always says a boy needs a thousand beatings to grow into a man. I say an impudent boy needs more.

  I look behind us at the sun. It is two hours above the mountains in the west. “Rabbi, we stayed long in Cana, but if we hurry, we will reach Capernaum just at sunset, and that will be a good end on our trip, yes?”

  I do not add that we stayed long in Cana because many hundred people came to be healed and Rabbi Yeshua was kind on them. Kindness is good, but there is such a thing as too much kindness.

  Rabbi Yeshua says nothing, but he quickens his pace.

  If we reach Capernaum tonight, that will be a good kindness on me. A tsaddik does not need a woman, but I am not a tsaddik.

  “There he is! There is the rabbi!”

  The voices come from the direction of the synagogue. Three men hurry toward us. They look ragged and dirty, and their cloaks are stained as they have been on some long journey. Behind them, others from the town are pointing and shouting and following.

  Rabbi Yeshua waits.

  The three men arrive.

  Rabbi Yeshua greets each of them with a kiss and a kiss and a kiss. “Brother Shmuel! Brother Hananyah! Brother Yoseph! It is good to see you.”

  They do not look as they think it is good to see Rabbi Yeshua. That is anger shining in their eyes, or I am a zonah.

  Yoni tugs on my sleeve. “Those are the men from Yohanan the immerser. Remember them?”

  I do not remember them, except the thick-built one, that Hananyah the nail maker, who told us some lying tale last Pesach to make us run like women. Rabbi Yeshua should tell him away.

  “My brothers, you will come with us to Capernaum, yes?” Rabbi Yeshua says.

  The three men pass dark looks among themselves. Hananyah the nail maker steps forward. “Rabbi, all the countryside is making rumor on you, even as far as Jericho. We have gone three times now to visit Yohanan in prison, and we told him all that we heard on you, and he sends us to ask what is the meaning of these things. When will you make a move? If you think you are something, why do you leave HaShem’s prophet in the prison of the evil king?”

  I do not like Hananyah the nail maker, but he asks the same questions I ask. We have waited overlong for Rabbi Yeshua to make a move.

  There is a big murmuring all around us.

  Many hundred men of Magdala have surrounded us. All of them are asking the same questions.

  Yoni’s small hand takes mine. His eyes shine.

  I know what he thinks. He thinks that soon will come the Day of Vengeance. Last Shabba
t we were in Tsipori, and they asked Rabbi Yeshua to expound on the prophets. He read from the scroll of Isaiah, but he stopped before the Day of Vengeance. That is where he always stops. I am sick to my death of waiting for him to read the Day of Vengeance.

  I want the Day of Vengeance to fall on the earth. I want it now.

  Rabbi Yeshua says nothing. His head tilts and his eyes close halfway.

  I know this means he is listening to the voice of HaShem. My belly tightens into a hard knot. I wish HaShem would tell him to do some sensible thing.

  Rabbi Yeshua’s eyes open. He rises up on his toes and looks all around. He points at a man and walks toward him. “You!”

  The crowd parts before Rabbi Yeshua.

  The man trembles as Rabbi Yeshua approaches. He crouches down tight, covering his head.

  Rabbi Yeshua stops before him. “Friend—”

  The man leaps at Rabbi Yeshua’s throat, snarling, snapping with his teeth.

  Rabbi Yeshua twists right.

  The man’s teeth sink into Rabbi Yeshua’s left shoulder.

  Rabbi Yeshua staggers backward. “Shalom!”

  The man screams and falls in the dirt.

  Rabbi Yeshua kneels beside him. “Leave him, all you unclean spirits. Go now, and never come back.”

  The man screams again and shakes like a boat in a great storm and then …

  He falls still.

  There is no sound but the man’s weeping.

  Rabbi Yeshua bends down and whispers long in his ear. At last, he stands and helps the man to his feet and gives him a kiss and a kiss and a kiss.

  Everyone begins shouting all at once.

  “Rabbi! I have a broken finger!”

  “Rabbi! My son at home has the belly-fever!”

  “Rabbi! My mother has the wasting disease!”

  I am sick to my death on all these many people. Now is a good time for Rabbi Yeshua to make a move. He should break open the prison where Yohanan the prophet is held. Yohanan immersed many ten thousand men, and they would all join our army if Rabbi Yeshua broke him out.

  Now is the time for men of violence to rise up. Now is the time to throw down the evil king, Herod, and the Great Satan, Caesar. The wicked goyim call Caesar the son of HaShem, but that is a lie. Caesar is not the anointed king of Israel. Caesar is a false king.

  Now is not the time for Rabbi Yeshua to waste strength on sick folk of no account. After we crush the Great Satan, the sick can come and be healed. That is the right order of things—call up the men of violence now, and then heal the men of weakness after. Rabbi Yeshua is a good man, but he has a kind spot for these men of weakness. If he misses his chance, it will be because he is too kindhearted.

  I touch Rabbi Yeshua’s shoulder. “Rabbi, a word, please.”

  He grins on me. “Shimon, my brother, I need your help. Place hands on this man’s arm and tell it to be whole.”

  I reach for the arm and then see the spots of whiteness. My heart seizes in my chest, and I pull back. “Rabbi … the man has the look of …”

  I do not dare say he has the look of tsaraat, or the crowd will hear and make a big rushing and people will be crushed.

  Yoni pushes his way in. “Rabbi Yeshua, what are you doing?”

  Rabbi Yeshua says, “Place hands on the man’s arm and tell it to be whole.”

  Yoni places hands on the man’s arm.

  I hate that Yoni pushes in where he has no place.

  “Tell it to be whole, Yoni.”

  Yoni says, “Be whole.”

  I do not see anything happening, and I am glad. Yoni is impudent, more than any boy ever was.

  “Be whole,” Yoni says again.

  I am hot in all my parts. That would be the worst thing, if the man should be made whole. Then we will never hear the end of Yoni’s boasting.

  “Be whole,” Yoni says.

  All my body is in a big sweat.

  Rabbi Yeshua grins. “Lift your hands, Yoni.”

  Yoni lifts his hands.

  The man’s arm is whole.

  For a moment I cannot breathe. Did Yoni make the man whole? No, that is not a good sense. Rabbi Yeshua made the man whole. He told what words to say. All Yoni did was repeat. That is not the same as knowing what words to say. But Yoni will not see it, and now he will be more conceited than ever.

  Toma Trouble tries to crowd in. “Move aside, Yohanan Talk-Talk. We cannot see what the rabbi is doing when you and Shimon crowd all together.”

  All the three of us step back from the man who had tsaraat.

  Now I see what is the reason for the matter. Rabbi Yeshua did not need our help to heal the man. That would be a big foolishness, for we are only fish-men, not prophets. Rabbi Yeshua only needed us to make a fence for prying eyes, so no one would see that the man had tsaraat. That makes a good sense.

  Rabbi Yeshua grins on me and Yoni. “That was a good help.”

  Yoni grins like a wolf.

  I do not grin. I should speak to the rabbi on the matter of giving the boy a good beating. If he will not do it, I will.

  Behind Rabbi Yeshua, I see the men from Yohanan the immerser scowling on us.

  I only wish we will make an end on this healing foolishness and leave now. If we hurry, we can still reach Capernaum.

  But Rabbi Yeshua does not make an end on it. He finds a blind man and heals him. He finds an old woman with an evil spirit and sends it away. He finds a deaf boy and heals him. He does not make an end on his healing until the sun falls down behind the mountains.

  We will not reach Capernaum tonight.

  The men from Yohanan the immerser stand with arms crossed on chests.

  Rabbi Yeshua looks more tired than I ever saw him, but he gives a smile to the men. “Go to Yohanan the prophet and tell him what you have seen. The blind see. The lame walk. The lepers are made clean. The deaf hear. The kingdom of HaShem is breaking in on us.”

  The men scowl on him. They turn and stomp away in a big rage.

  They should be angry. I am angry too.

  That is not a good sense, what the rabbi said.

  Yes, he healed the blind and lame and deaf.

  Yes, he purified tsaraat.

  Yes, he sent away evil spirits.

  No, the kingdom of HaShem is not breaking in.

  The kingdom of HaShem will not break in until we raise up an army.

  We could have gone to the city square and called for an army and raised up a thousand men of violence.

  Instead, we missed our chance and wasted time on sick people, old people, weak people.

  The sick and the old and the weak are no use for an army.

  We missed a chance for the kingdom of HaShem to break in.

  Rabbi Yeshua never misses a chance to miss a chance.

  I will not dishonor him by asking him on this matter.

  Instead, I will tell Yoni to do it.

  Chapter Sixty-Seven

  Yoni of Capernaum

  “Rabbi Yeshua, may I ask you a question?”

  The rabbi laughs out loud. “Yoni, no day goes by that you fail to ask many ten thousand questions. Ask.”

  Shimon the Rock has been begging me now for a whole week to ask the rabbi on this matter. I have been stalling, because when Shimon wants a favor from me, he does not tease me about women. But I am dying from my curiosity, and now is a good time to ask.

  I hear the others drawing close behind us. We are on the way to Jerusalem for Sukkot. Only the eight men who follow Rabbi Yeshua. Our families are coming a day behind us, on account of all the rabbi’s scandals. We walked all day from Jericho up the steep road toward Jerusalem, and we are tired, and now that it comes to the point, I am afraid.

  Rabbi Yeshua looks on me with laughing eyes. “So, you will ask me this question that burns a hole in your tongue, yes?”

  I take a large breath and rush forward before my courage runs away from me. “The … men who came from Yohanan the immerser. They wanted you to make a move, and yet you did not make a move. Whe
n will you make a move? Will it be at the feast? Will you make a big army at Rosh HaShanah? Will you send away the evil priests from the Temple on Yom Kippur? Will this be the year of liberation? What is the meaning of what you do? Why do you wait to make a move? Do you not see we are all dying for the Day of Vengeance to come?”

  “That is only eight questions. You are not up to your usual mark, Yoni!”

  The other men laugh, but it is a nervous laugh.

  I grin on him. “That is not even the eighth part of an answer, Rabbi. You are not up to your usual mark, either!”

  The others roar.

  Rabbi Yeshua laughs too. He laughs so hard, he stops and bends over and slaps his thighs.

  He honors me, to laugh on my jest, but still I wish he will make an answer.

  Rabbi Yeshua takes my hand and we continue walking. “When you first went to see Yohanan the immerser, what did you go to see? Some reed swaying in the wind?”

  “No, I looked for a man who fears HaShem.”

  “Did you go to see a rich man wearing soft clothes?”

  “No, I looked for a man who does not fear rich men who wear soft clothes.”

  “What else did you go to see?”

  “A prophet.”

  “And more than a prophet, yes? You went to see the one the prophet Malachi told tale on, the messenger of HaShem, who makes a way before the coming of HaShem, yes?”

  “If Yohanan made a way before the coming of HaShem, then where is the coming of HaShem?”

  “And I tell you true, no man born of women is greater than Yohanan the immerser. Yet the weakest man in the kingdom of HaShem will be greater than Yohanan the immerser.”

  My heart beats many times in my chest. That is not a good logic. If that is a good logic, then no man is worthy to enter the kingdom of HaShem. But I do not think it is a logic at all. I think it is a paradox. “When will the kingdom of HaShem come?”

  “Since the prophet Yohanan appeared, the kingdom of HaShem has been advancing. But it is hidden, and men of violence wish to lay hold on it before the time.”

  My ears feel hot. I wish to be a man of violence. Shimon the Rock wishes to be a man of violence. We all wish to be men of violence. We all wish to lay hold on the kingdom of HaShem. But Rabbi Yeshua makes it sound as we wish for a wrong thing.