by Woods, Karen
A group of young men played music in the corner of the courtyard. They broke off their playing suddenly.
Yosef greeted the fairly large crowd. Some of those people were sitting on the ground. They all washed their hands, said blessings over the wine and food, and dinner began.
Ahron, Yosef’s son-in-law, stood and walked over to them. “Shall I juggle for you?”
“Please do,” Miriam said.
Ahron’s excellent juggling was followed by various of their neighbors who sang songs, played instruments, and recited poetry, both of their own construction and from the psalms.
At the end of dinner, Yosef stood and began to chant the three long blessings of the birkat ha-mazon, as those had been prayed at the end of every meal since the time of Ezra the scribe and the great assembly.
At the end of that prayer, Yosef’s brother, Halphai, stood and began to recite again the sheva brachos, the seven blessings used at weddings. Every evening for the next week, these blessings would be recited after their dinner. Seven blessings said for seven days, to bless their marriage, as seven is a holy number, the number of the days of creation. Yet, as Yehuda was to marry in a few days, one of the recitations of the sheva brachos would be at Yosef’s son’s wedding feast. Knowing David and Naomi, that feast would be a proper one, not the hurried affair that Miriam and her neighbors had thrown together this evening.
Still, Miriam thought her marriage feast had been quite lovely. They had Yosef’s children and their spouses here and the neighbors had come. Everyone had enough to eat. The wine, while not the very best, was certainly worth more than the single silver coin she had sent with Amir.
After the seven blessings had been recited, the music began for dancing. The women formed a circle of their own. Then men formed another circle. They danced for hours, laughing, singing. Gradually, the crowd thinned as the hour grew late, the torches began to sputter, and the wine began to run low, then ran out.
Chapter Seven
Six months later, at Shabbat dinner, with Yosef’s sons, daughters, his children’s spouses, and grandson, Yosef said, “There is no help for it. We must go to Bethlehem for this census. But there is no sense of all of us going. As the head of the family, I can go and register my married sons and their wives. My daughters’ fathers’-in-law can register them and their husbands, in their own city.”
Shimon shook his head. “Father, are you to go alone?”
“My brother Halphai, and his family, my Yaacov, and my Miriam will come with me. My brother must register his own family.”
Hadassah asked, “Are you certain that is a wise idea, Father? It is a very hard journey. And your Miriam is...” Yosef’s daughter blushed, “…well, perhaps it is not a good thing for her to travel so far right now.”
“If my husband wishes me to go, I shall go,” Miriam replied.
Yosef nodded. “I think it for the best. I have bought a donkey for you to ride to Yudea, Miriam, my dear.”
Miriam shook her head, “Am I royalty that I should ride upon the back of an ass while others walk?”
“You are the queen of both my household and my heart,” Yosef replied, with a smile.
Miriam smiled and sighed as she saw this was pointless to discuss. He had made up his mind. “You will not be moved from this, I see. So, when do we leave?”
“On the first day of the week, early, at or near first light,” Yosef said.
“Father, surely not so soon?” Dinah demanded.
“It must be done. The census, and the tax, is required. We cannot ignore it. As it is, we’re getting in on the very end of this.”
“I pray daily HaShem would free us from the Roman tyranny,” Chiram, Dinah’s husband, said.
“He will,” Miriam said.
“I still think it is dangerous at this stage of her pregnancy for Miriam to be traveling,” Hadassah said.
“Avinu Malkeinu will protect us,” Miriam said. “Have no worry. Your father and I will be fine, as will the child.”
Hadassah sighed. She put her hand on her own expanding belly. “I just know I don’t want to make that trip.”
“You don’t have to, my dear,” Moshe, Hadassah’s husband, replied. “My family is from here. This is where we are to be counted and taxed.”
“It’s unconscionable the Romans are forcing people to travel long distances to be counted in their census and to then have to pay them for the privilege,” Lydia said, her voice heated.
Yosef shook his head. “The Romans don’t care about anything except getting their money and learning how many of us there are. Registering in our own cities, among our own tribes and peoples, that is an accommodation to our ways.”
“I wish the Roman soldiers, along with our people who betray our people to collect the Roman taxes, would all just go away and leave us in peace,” Dinah replied.
“Eventually, Roma will cease to be a great power. Her own ways will be the end of her. Avinu Malkeinu and his people will remain long after Roma has gone the way of every other oppressor of the children of the Covenant,” Miriam said.
“Oh, that we should live to see it!” Hadassah said.
“Amein,” Chiram said. That agreement was echoed by all.
“Such things will happen in the Holy One’s own time,” Yosef replied. “Shall we now sing our blessings of God and end this meal?”
After the birkat ha-mazon was sung and everyone had gone, and young Yaacov was put to bed, Miriam looked at Yosef. “You purchased a donkey, Husband? Using what for money?”
“I collected on several debts I was owed, in order to get the money for both the tax and the donkey,” he said as he placed a leather drawstring purse on the table. “It is enough for us to make the journey there and back, as well as to pay the tax.”
“You know I am close to my time for this child’s birth.”
“Better that this is done away from home. The last thing we need is for Chaya or one of her midwives to attend you and determine you are still a virgin,” Yosef replied. “That would make life here impossible.”
Miriam sighed. “Am I then not to have a woman with me as I bring forth this child?”
“It will be easier in another place where we are not known. Halphai’s Miriam will be there, my dear. She does serve as a midwife, from time to time. We can count on her discretion.”
“Very well, Yosef. I am weary.”
“Shall I rub your feet and ankles?”
“Please.”
She reclined on one of the couches. Yosef loosened her sandals and wiped her feet with a dampened square of rough linen. Then he dried her feet.
He said, “My Shlomit, of blessed memory, always said the worst part of being with child was the way her ankles swelled and ached. That bothered her worse than the kicks and stretches of the child in her womb.”
“Did she?” Miriam was instantly ashamed of the wariness she heard in her own voice.
He looked at her for a long moment then asked, “Does my talking about Shlomit bother you?”
Miriam sighed as Yosef’s strong hands massaged her right ankle, rubbing attar of roses into her skin. “No. I understand. You loved her. I think you still love her, even though she’s been gone for years.”
His hands stilled on her ankle. He looked at her. “Love doesn’t die because the loved one has died. Shlomit and the children were my life. Everything I’ve ever done, I’ve done for them.”
“Why did you marry me, Yosef?”
“It isn’t good for a man to be alone. You needed a home. I needed a woman in my home, since my daughters were leaving me to start their own families and Yaacov needs a mother. There are worse things for an old man than to have a young wife. Even when David, the King, was old and dying, his sons sent him a young woman to care for him, to keep him warm in the night.”
“True enough,” she answered. “But that doesn’t answer why you married me.”
“You were, are, a righteous young woman. And you needed a home. It seemed a good thing. Why did
you marry me?”
“I was told you were a righteous man. You had kind eyes and the lines on your face that come from much smiling. I could have done worse for myself. Since our kiddushin, I’ve come to love you, dearly.”
He smiled. That smile touched her heart. “Love is shown through actions better than through words. Anyone can say, ‘I love you’. Love is serving one another, protecting one another, being kind to one another, helping the other person to live joyfully as a child of the Covenant.”
“Then you love me,” Miriam offered.
“Was there any doubt?” he asked as he continued to massage her swollen right ankle.
Chapter Eight
Midmorning on the sixth day of their travels up narrow roads that were little more than rocky, rutted, dirt paths through the winding hills, she spied Bethlehem. It was the day of preparation for Shabbat. If she were home, she’d have been cooking and cleaning all day in preparation for the observance. Maybe. At least, she would have tried.
As it was, Yosef walked beside and slightly behind her as she rode this smelly jack ass, jostled by every step of the stubborn beast of burden. His son Yaacov led the beast. Yosef’s brother, Halphai, and Halphai’s family, walked in front of them.
For the last few hours, it had become obvious to her that this baby would be born soon. The village midwife, Chaya, had told her there was a period of pains that grew closer together prior to the birth of the child. But these muscle tightenings weren’t anything she would have called pain. They were simply noticeable.
Still, it was clear to her this baby was coming. Probably before morning. She hadn’t told Yosef, yet. She didn’t want to worry him. One of them being worried was more than enough.
He would find them someplace to rest. Then this baby could be born. As for Shabbat, well, surely someone would offer them hospitality. Yosef had relatives in this town.
Riding through the gates of town, Miriam turned to Yosef and said, “Husband, this child is to be born today.”
The look on his face would have made her laugh, if she hadn’t just felt another muscle contraction.
“Are you sure?” he asked.
“This child is becoming quite insistent to come into the world, and soon at that. He presses me.”
“The Inn is up here. Surely, they’ll have a room for us,” Yosef said.
“We can only hope. Are the streets of this town always this busy?” Miriam asked.
Yosef shook his head from side to side. “No. I’ve never seen this many people here before. I’m certain it is because of the census. But come. Let’s get you settled.”
“I’m sorry, Yosef.”
He smiled at her. “Babies come when they’re good and ready to come. This will be fine, Miriam, my dearest.”
Stopping before an inn, Yosef tied off the donkey and helped her down from the animal’s back.
The innkeeper met them just inside the door. He carried a pitcher of wine and was on his way to a table. “I have no more room in the house,” he told them, his voice harried. “No room at all. I can’t help you.”
“Please, friend, my wife is about to give birth. For the love of the Holy One, tell me where might we find shelter?” Yosef said.
The man stopped, looked at Miriam for a long moment, looked at Yosef again. He sighed and appeared to be thinking. “Town’s full to the brim between those money hungry Romans and the House of David members come here to be taxed by them...The only place I have left is the stables in the cave beneath this house. You can muck out one of the stalls, spread fresh straw, and sleep there, if you wish. I’ll send you down a blanket or two. It’s the most I can offer. I doubt there will be anywhere else available in town. People are sleeping on the streets. At least, I can keep you out of the rain that is coming.”
“Husband!” Miriam said. “This child is not going to wait much longer. Better the rough shelter of a cave than have this child born on the street.”
“Very well, Wife. I’m so sorry about this.”
“What can’t be changed must be dealt with,” she said as another contraction happened. “This child is coming, soon. He’s becoming quite insistent on seeing the world.”
“Are you in pain?” Yosef asked.
“He presses me, our son. But it’s not pain. We need to find that cave, soon.”
Shortly after reaching the stables, Yosef, Halphai, and the boys left the cave, leaving the women to tend entirely to the business of childbirth. Halphai’s wife helped Miriam prepare for the birth, bustling around the cave, building a makeshift birthing stool from a pile of mud bricks she had found outside a stall, and singing a mizmor, psalm, at a higher than moderate volume as she worked.
Yet, Miriam’s thoughts were not entirely about the child who was soon to come into the world, but also centered on Yosef, whom she knew, from what she could hear of his conversation just outside the stables, needed the support of her prayers at the moment.
Halphai’s Miriam stood back a few minutes later and looked at her handiwork. Miriam watched her. “Those bricks have been a godsend. A real birthing stool would have been better, but this will do. The structure will support your legs and bottom, while allowing the child to be born without obstruction. They must have used something similar when our people were in Egypt,” Halphai’s Miriam said. “Remember when Pharoah told the midwives to examine the newborns upon the bricks and to kill all boys?”
Miriam, wife of Yosef, nodded, as she strained to listen to Yosef’s conversation and tried to silently pray. “I remember, Sister. Shifrah and Puah were the names of the midwives. Some people say the pair were really Moshe’s mother and sister; Yochebed and Miriam.”
Halpai’s wife, the other Miriam, nodded. “I have heard that as well, but I discount it… You are young and strong, my sister. You will have no problem with this child.”
“From your mouth to the ear of Avinu Malkeinu, my sister,” Miriam said as another strong contraction happened. The muscle contractions still weren’t painful, but they were definitely coming much closer together.
When the muscle contractions were coming so closely together that they were nearly continuous, Halphai’s Miriam helped her to move to take her place on the makeshift birthing stool. As soon as she was in position, the cave filled with a bright cloud.
She could feel Halpai’s wife’s hand tighten on her shoulder in fear.
“Everything is well, my sister,” Miriam said. “Just stand there. Rub my shoulders and back. Sing to me from the mizmorim,” the psalms. “This child is to be born into the hands of the holy angels.”
Yosef rushed into the cave a few minutes later. “Miriam! Where are you? Are you safe?”
The panic in his voice touched her heart.
“Here, Husband. I’m safe. Rest easy. The child is coming into the world, now.”
“I have found a young midwife in town. You really need two women with you, this being your firstborn.”
“I have all the aid I need, Yosef, my dear,” Miriam said.
The cloud dissipated, replaced by an intensely bright light, a blinding light.
Moments later, Miriam, naked baby boy in her arms, sat on the straw beside the makeshift birthing stool, the bricks at her back as support. She offered her breast to the baby who latched on strongly without hesitation and began to suckle.
The light eventually faded. But she didn’t look up from the nursing child until Yosef knelt beside her and spoke, “Miriam, my dearest...”
“Just look at him, Yosef. Isn’t he wonderful?” she asked, lifting her mantle to reveal the nursing child as she heard a rustling behind her within the makeshift brick structure.
Her sister-in-law and the midwife Yosef had brought with him were both examining the placenta, to make sure it was whole. She heard them talking among themselves.
“You did a fine job of delivering that baby,” she heard the midwife, Salome, tell her sister-in-law, the other Miriam. “I’ve never seen afterbirth look better.”
“Sister di
d it all. I did nothing except stand there and hold her as she brought forth the child,” Miriam, the wife of Halphai, said.
The baby stopped sucking. Keeping herself covered with her mantle, she offered the other breast to the baby.
“How is he sucking?” the midwife asked.
“Strongly. That has to be a good sign,” Miriam said.
“Yes. It is. Let him suckle. When he’s done, I want to look at the cord and examine you, just to be sure both of you have come through the delivery well. But don’t hurry. Giving the child the first milk is very important for both of you. His sucking is good for both of you.”
“We’re well,” Miriam said.
“Then what can it matter if I take a look at the pair of you?” the midwife replied.
Ten minutes later, after having nursed the baby to sleep, Miriam gave her sleeping son into the arms of the midwife.
“Beautiful boy. He looks extremely healthy. Excellent job on that cord. It should heal well,” the midwife said as she handed the sleeping boy back to his mother.
Miriam wrapped her son in swaddling clothes and laid him in the manger which her sister-in-law had earlier filled with both fresh, sweet, hay and a blanket in preparation for using the stone feeding trough as a bed for the child.
“Now, let me look at you, young Miriam,” the midwife said.
Yosef excused himself rapidly, “I’ll leave you, now. I’ll be just outside if you need me.”
The midwife examined Miriam with an embarrassing degree of thoroughness. The midwife stepped back and walked over to look at the child, asleep on the hay, in the manger. Then she came back to Miriam. “Miriam, you absolutely astound me. You have clearly brought forth a child, and yet, you remain a virgin. You want to tell me how this is possible?”
