by Woods, Karen
Yosef led them in the birkat ha-mazon after dinner. Yehoshua’s eyes looked very heavy. Miriam helped her son prepare for bed. She cuddled with him, on his mat, leading him in his bedtime prayers, and staying beside him until he fell deeply into sleep.
Yosef sat with Yaacov, listening to the youngster read from a scroll of the Prophet Hosea which had been borrowed from the local Beyt T’fila.
Listening to the reading, Miriam cleaned the serving dishes after dinner and put the clean dishes on the shelf. Then she swept the floor and generally tidied the single room of their home.
Yosef said, “Very good, Yaacov. You can return the book to the rabbi tomorrow. Now, go ready yourself for bed.”
Miriam sat at the table across from Yosef.
“I had an offer of employment today from Claudia, the Roman lady from whom I had my most recent commission. She wants me to enter her service, to make cloth for her exclusively. She wants you to join her household staff, too. The money she offers is very good. But they are returning to Roma within the year.”
Yosef rose and walked over to where the wineskin hung. He poured himself another cup of wine before returning to the table.
“And what answer did you give, Wife?” he asked.
“I asked for some time to consider the matter. I do not want to live in Roma. I don't think that would be good for Yehoshua.”
Yosef nodded, “No. I agree there. Roma would not be a good place for him.”
“The money is tempting.” She told him the offer.
“We have enough. We don't really need anything else.”
“Yes, I know,” Miriam said. “It's just nice to have someone think your work is worth that much money.”
Yosef took her hand. “My dearest, your work is beyond price. Still, the most important work you have to do is in raising the boy. We've talked about going home as soon as Herod is no longer a threat to the child.”
“That man gives new meaning to the saying that only the good die young,” Yaacov replied, interjecting his comments into their conversation.
Yosef shook his head and said, “And who, my son, made you a judge over anyone? That one will have to answer for his own sins, just as all of us will. May Avinu Malkeinu treat him with more mercy than Herod has shown to the people of the Covenant.”
Yaacov sighed, “I am sorry if I offended you, Abba. But you have to admit we would not be here in Egypt if Herod had not sought the life of my brother.”
Miriam nodded, “I cannot deny the truth of what you say, Yaacov. Still, as your Abba says, a man's sins are his own. It does no one any good to spend time discussing anyone else's sins. While Herod’s actions have impacted us, we cannot be certain our own actions have not injured others as well in lesser ways. So all we can do is to live our lives the best we can, observing halakhah, living our lives as blamelessly as possible while keeping the Holy One ever in our minds and hearts. And when we fail, we need to repent and make amends to those we have harmed. All we can do is love Him with all our minds, hearts, and strength and to love our neighbor as we love ourselves. Part of that love for neighbor is not speaking evilly of them, even privately.”
“Is Herod, then, our neighbor?” Yaacov asked.
“Everyone in the world is our neighbor,” Miriam said. “Every person is a descendant of our first parents who were made in the image of Avinu Malkeinu.”
Yaacov went to his mat and laid down there. “I suppose you are right. Are you staying up very much longer?”
Yosef answered, “We can say our bedtime prayers together.” Then he began to chant the blessings, beginning with the Sh’ma Yisra’el, “Sh’ma Yisra’el, Adonai eloheinu, Adonai echad. Barukh shem kevod malkhuto le-olam va’ed” Hear, O Israel, the Lord our God is one Lord. Blessed be His name, whose glorious kingdom is forever and ever. “Ve’ahavta et Adonai elohikha bekhol levavkha uvekhol-nafshekha uvekhol-meodekha” And you shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul, and with all your strength.
Then he continued with the rest of the bedtime blessings, “Barukh atah Adonai eloheinu melekh ha-olam, hamapil chevlei shenah al einai utevumah al af-a-pai,” Blessed are You, Lord our God, King of the Universe, who makes the bands of sleep fall upon my eyes, and slumber upon my eyelids.
“Amein”, she and Yaacov answered.
Yosef continued, “Vihi ratzon mifaneykha Adonai elohai velohei avoteinu shetashkeveini le-shalom ve-ta’amideini le-shalom” May it be Your will, O Lord my God, and the God of my fathers, to let me lie down in peace and let me rise up again in peace.
Again, Miriam and Yaacov answered with “Amein”.
He finished the bedtime blessings with a passage from the psalms, “Beyadkha afkid ruche paditah oti Adonai el emet” Into Your hand I commit my spirit; You have redeemed me, O Lord, God of truth.
Miriam and Yaacov gave a final “Amein”.
“Okay, to sleep with you now, Yaacov,” Miriam said, her voice kind. “Tomorrow will be a whole new day.”
The boy yawned and took his place on the mat near Yehoshua.
“Sleep well, Miriam,” Yosef said, his voice tender.
“And you have pleasant dreams, Husband.”
Morning came far too soon. Miriam quietly whispered her morning blessings, then rose from her mat before the boys and Yosef were awake. But that was nothing new. She was usually awake far before anyone else.
Moving quietly, she kindled a flame on a single oil lamp, washed her face and hands, combed and dressed her hair. She pulled on her everyday outer robe over her linen tunic, and placed her cap on over her hair. Then she laid the table for their breakfast, with yesterday’s flat bread, a dish of goat cheese, and a dish of dried figs and dates. After pulling on her veil, and covering her face, she made her way to the well to draw fresh water for both drinking and cleaning. The water in which she herself had washed this morning had been gnat filled.
This was the day of preparation. She would need to make bread today for the Shabbat. Returning home with the water, she began to plan out her day so that she would have everything done before the lighting of the candles.
Bread came first. She truly missed the oven she and her neighbors back home had shared. She longed for the outdoor courtyard cooking area she had shared with her neighbors. Here, the only place to cook was a corner on the flat roof of the house and she had to pay a baker for space in his oven for her bread.
She sieved wheaten flour through two woven screens to remove the bits of stone that were always left behind from the grinding, then placed that flour and a little salt in a big wooden bowl Yosef had carved for her. In another bowl, she beat four eggs with honey and oil, before stirring in the yeast starter she kept for daily baking. Then she mixed the wet and dry ingredients until they formed a ball. She turned out the ball of dough onto a floured board to knead into elasticity.
She heard Yosef recite his morning blessings from his mat. “Good morning, Husband,” she told him.
“This will be our last Shabbat in this land. We leave for home on the first day of the week.”
She stopped in her kneading of the bread. “Do you think it’s safe?”
“Herod’s dead. Gavriel told me this in a dream. It should be safe to leave here.”
“Will we return to Natsarat?” Miriam asked.
“Perhaps we shall go to Yudea instead to Galilee,” Yosef replied. “It may be better for the boy to be closer to the Temple than he would be in Natsarat.”
“I'm certain Avinu Malkeinu will direct our path. How will we return home? We did sell that donkey. Walking that distance would be difficult for Yehoshua.”
Yosef nodded. “That is why I thought we should take passage on a ship going north.”
“We could be home in time to prepare for next Shabbat,” Miriam said, feeling happier than she had in a very long time.
“If not next Shabbat, then the one following that,” Yosef said.
“It is a good time to leave. I have no outstanding weaving commissions to
hold me here.”
“I will draw my pay today,” Yosef said. “It is a good time to leave as both of us are at places we can walk away.”
“Herod is dead. You are sure of this?” Miriam asked.
“I don't question dreams, Wife, not anymore. Too many things have been shown to me through dreams for me to feel any doubt at all.”
She nodded. “Wash and eat. Then go pray before going to work. It will be a busy day for both of us.”
Yosef smiled at her. “Sounds like it.”
Miriam was tired at the end of the day. Yet looking around the single room of their rented home, she was happy with the clean and welcoming appearance of their home. Yaacov had brought the pair of spit roasted ducks down from the roof before he and Yosef had gone to pray. Those roast fowl now sat on a platter under a large bowl to stay warm. Yosef and their two elderly widower guests would be returning shortly from evening prayers. She expected the two widow women whom she had invited to arrive any time now. In fact, she was surprised they were not already here.
It was always a good thing to share Shabbat hospitality with people, particularly with the old and the poor.
“Emma!” Yehoshua said, standing beside her, tugging on her outer robe. “I’m hungry.”
She picked him up, rested him on her hip, and handed him a slice of boiled egg, after she recited a blessing for the gift of the egg. “We’ll eat Shabbat dinner soon, my son.”
“More egg, Emma, please!” he demanded after he finished the first slice.
She laughed and gave him another slice of egg. “Come, let's sit.”
Yehoshua crammed the egg slice into his mouth.
“We’ll eat Shabbat dinner soon, Son,” she told him as she sat down on a bench along the wall. “You mustn’t spoil your dinner.”
He hugged her neck and kissed her cheek. “I love you, Emma!”
“I love you, too, Yehoshua. You know what we will soon celebrate?”
“Shabbat!” the child answered.
“And what does that mean?”
“Good food?” he teased, smiling.
Miriam laughed. “Yes, but it’s more than that. Shabbat is very special. Avinu Malkeinu created the world in six days, and on the seventh, He rested and called that day holy. Then he commanded us to observe and remember this. One of the ways we show the love of Him on this day is to have the best dinner we can afford in celebration of His love and care for us. So, yes, we have lots of food. But we share that with others. Some people choose their Shabbat guests from among those who can, in turn, invite them to Shabbat dinner. But it is a better thing to invite the poorest people to share Shabbat dinner because they need the help and it is certain they will not be able to return the gift, so the sharing of food becomes a gift of gratitude to Avinu Malkeinu for the good things He has given to us.”
He looked at her for a long moment. He nodded. “More egg, Emma?”
She had to laugh as she hugged the boy. Most of the women in the area wouldn’t have talked to a young child as if he were an adult. But Miriam didn’t see any use in speaking to a child any differently than she would speak to anyone else, especially not to this child.
Rising from the bench, she carried the child to the table. Handing him another slice of egg, she said, “There you are. Enjoy!”
He ate the egg with evident enjoyment. “More!”
“No more, not now. You’ll spoil your dinner.”
“I’m hungry, Emma!”
“They’ll be home soon. Then we’ll all eat.”
A knock came at the door. The widows, Varda and Yael, were at the door. Miriam welcomed them inside.
“I’m hungry, Emma!” Yehoshua said, again.
Varda smiled. “I remember when my boys were small, they were always hungry.”
Yael nodded. “I never had sons. But when my brothers were young men, after my mother died, I thought I should never fill their bellies. Keeping enough bread baked was quite a task.”
Just then the door opened.
“Abba!” the boy cried out with joy. “Down, Emma!”
She put the boy down. He ran to Yosef. “Up, Abba!”
Yosef picked up Yehoshua and lifted him up so that the child was looking down on Yosef.
Miriam always thought that was the position that was meant by the blessing, “the Lord lift up his countenance upon you.” She was coming to contemplate Avinu Malkeinu as a doting father of a toddler, more and more as she observed Yehoshua with Yosef.
Chapter Thirteen
The journey back to Yudea was much easier by boat than it had been by foot; much easier, and much quicker.
Stepping onto the dock at Yoppa, Yosef turned to Miriam, who was still in the boat, and, offering her his hand, said, “It is good to be home, Wife.”
She took his hand in her left, to steady her as she climbed out of the boat, Yehoshua resting firmly on her right hip with her right arm wrapped firmly around the toddler. “We are not quite home yet, Husband.”
“Closer than we were,” Yosef said with a smile.
The four of them, Miriam with Yehoshua on her hip, Yaacov, and Yosef, walked from the docks into the town. As it was late in the day, they stopped at an inn. The innkeeper assigned them a private room.
After saying the regular blessings and washing their hands, they ate the lentil stew and other dishes that had been put before them. It was good to have a hot meal after several days of cold meals aboard the boat.
Yosef lead them in chanting the birkat ha-mazon.
The innkeeper’s wife came in to clear away from the meal as Miriam prepared Yehoshua for bed. That woman was full of news. Yes, Herod was dead. Unfortunately, he’d split his kingdom among several members of his family. Herod Archelaus had been given the rule of Yudea. Rumor was that he was to go to Roma to have his rule confirmed. Herod Antipas would be ruler of Galilee, if Caesar actually confirmed Archelaus. Philip was to have the northeast part of the kingdom.
After the woman left the room, Yosef said, “We cannot live under Archelaus. That man makes his father look like a kind and generous soul, when he was vicious and self-serving. Herod Antipas would be preferable as a ruler. At least, Antipas is merely self-indulgent and greedy, not violent like his father was, and brother is. Let us return to Natsarat.”
“I would like nothing better, Husband,” Miriam said.
“We shall leave in the morning,” Miriam said. “Do you suppose it is a week’s walk home from here?”
“Most likely. It is most of a day’s walk to Antipatris, then the road goes up through the plain of Sharon and angles over to Natsarat, just south and east of Caesarea.”
“Then we’ll spend Shabbat in Antipatris and be back home before the next Shabbat,” Miriam said.
“Sounds like a plan,” Yosef said.
“I hate the idea of walking, just the three of us and one of us carrying Yehoshua, through Samaria. I don’t think it’s safe. But, if we have to, we have to.”
“We could see if there is another boat heading up the coast on the first day of the week. If so, we might be able to book passage, then walk to Natsarat from the coast.”
“We can certainly see if anyone is going north,” Miriam allowed.
They did find a boat going north, on the first day of the week, so that they only had to walk from Ptolemais to Natsarat. Midweek, late in the day, about dinner time, they walked into Nasarat. Arriving at Yosef's home, Miriam and Yosef found it occupied by Yosef’s son, Yehuda, his wife, Shoshonah, and their three sons, the toddler twins Lavi and Aryeh, and baby Asher.
The look on Shoshonah's face when they entered the house was anything except welcoming.
Yehuda’s smile was more welcoming, as he stood and came to them. “Father! You have returned. It is so good to see you safely home.” He embraced his father then embraced Miriam and tenderly touched the head of his brother, Yehoshua. “Shoshonah, dearest, quickly, bring water for washing and add more wine and food to the table for my father, his wife, and my brothers. T
hey must be very hungry after their long journey. Let us make them welcome. Come, sit down and be comfortable. Eat with us.”
Yet the expression on Shoshonah’s face was no more welcoming after her husband's words than it had been before. Still, Yosef’s daughter-in-law hastened to do as she was bid.
The meal on Yehuda's table was more sumptuous than any Miriam had ever seen for a weekday dinner; two roast chickens, stewed lentils, brined black olives, green onions, radishes, leafy garden greens, cucumber slices, leavened bread made with fine wheaten flour, ripe red grapes, melon slices, oil, and salt.
After washing their feet, and providing for them to wash their hands, Shoshonah poured wine for the three of them.
After Yosef said blessings over the food and wine, they joined in the meal.
Yosef spoke to his son, “Is the smaller house I gave you empty, Yehuda?”
Yehuda nodded. “No one lives there. And I've kept the house clean and in good repair. We can move back there tomorrow, Father.”
Yosef smiled at his son. But Miriam didn’t miss the angry, petulant, look on Shoshonah’s face.
Yosef said, “I am assuming my shop remains largely as I left it?”
“Halphai has been using your shop, since the two of you shared it,” Shoshonah replied, her voice sharp.
“This is good. Miriam will want her flax wheel, and other tools, so she can work,” Yosef said.
Shoshonah said, rather defensively, “Those are in the smaller house. I have never learned to work with flax, so I had no use for them.”
Yosef nodded. “This house was built for a growing family. I built it for my Shlomit and our children. I am happy to have my son and his family live here. Use this house with my fullest blessing, Yehuda. I will take the other house and my workshop, for my use. I need far less space than your family does. This is all for the best.”
The utter relief on Shoshonah's face told Miriam more than any words could have said. Maybe he was right, maybe this was for the best.
