by Woods, Karen
Yosef said, “Morning will be upon us soon. Rest, now.”
Adlai had been clearly surprised to see them return so soon, but he welcomed them, warmly. Yet, he hadn’t seen Yehoshua since they had all left his house to make a final visit to the Temple before going home.
The next days were spent in a fruitless search for her son. No one to whom any of them spoke remembered seeing the boy.
Finally, after three days’ search, early that morning, they went into the Temple to pray. It was then that they discovered Yehoshua sitting among the scribes under the portico in the court of the women.
Miriam went to her son, took him aside and demanded, “Son, why have you done this to us? Your father and I have been seeking you, anxiously.”
Yehoshua looked at his mother and shrugged, “Why did you seek me? Did you not know I must be in my Father’s house and about His business?”
Over his head, Yosef and Miriam exchanged glances. They were spared making an immediate reply when one of the teachers, a man called Gershom, came over to them. “Your boy has a remarkable knowledge of Torah and the Prophets. For the last few days, we have been greatly challenged by him. Would you consider sending him here to study with me? He could be among the great teachers of Yisra’el if he were given the chance to study here.”
Yosef shook his head, dismissing that. “He has not yet fully mastered his trade of carpentry.”
One of the priests who had been sitting with the scribes walked over to her, “Miriam, that you? Is this your boy?”
She smiled at her old friend. “Yes, David, Yehoshua is my son.”
“Small wonder then the boy shows such love of Adonai. You always did have great faith, from the time you were a small child when your parents left you here to serve,” the priest, David, said. “We do miss Zechariah,” he added in an undertone.
“We do, as well,” Miriam said.
“Do you know what happened to his infant son, Yoni, and Elisheva, his wife?” David asked.
“I have not heard from them since before Herod had Zechariah murdered and their home set to fire, a dozen years ago,” Miriam said. “I still pray daily for their safety.”
David said, “I have Zechariah’s books. When he came to Yerushalayim for his Temple service that last time, he brought with him all his scrolls of Torah, the Prophets, and Writings. I’ve been holding them in trust for Elisheva and Yoni. But you are their kin. Would you take these books and use them for your boy’s education?”
Miriam nodded. “We would be honored to keep them safe for Yoni. Zechariah would have liked that.”
Yosef said, “We must be going home, now. Gather your things, young man.”
“Yes, Abba,” Yehoshua agreed. Then he addressed the priest, David, and the scribe Gershom, “May I come and sit with you when I am next in Yerushalayim?”’
“You will be quite welcome, young man,” David said.
“I would be happy to speak with you again, Yeshoshua of Natsarat,” Gershom said. “You have a better grasp of Torah and the Prophets, young man, than most adults. You have a fine mind and a heart full of love for El Elyon. You will be a great teacher for Yisra’el when you are grown.”
“Come, walk with me,” David said, “I will give you the books to take home.”
They walked to David’s house with him and took three leather bags filled with Zechariah’s scrolls.
Leaving David’s house, Miriam took her son’s hand. “You must never do anything like that again, my dear Son. We were terrified for you. You’ve delayed us to the point we will be spending the Shabbat on the road, now.”
“You always taught me that the Shabbat is a gift, not a prison, for man,” Yehoshua said.
“Carrying is prohibited on Shabbat,” Yosef said, “as is leaving one’s place. You know this. We will stay at an inn for Shabbat. But now, we have more than half a day to start towards home. I do not want to squander the day. We have commissions waiting for us to finish at home. The work will not do itself. And without those jobs being finished, we will not be able to eat.”
“Abba, I am sorry to worry you and Emma.”
“What were you thinking, Son?” Yosef demanded, his voice both kind and firm.
The boy sighed. “I walked past them, the scribes and the priests who sat there talking. They were discussing a point of halakhah having to do with speech and our duty to others in reference to our words. I was drawn into that conversation. They were completely missing the real point, not seeing how all the scriptures relate to one another. One thing led to another, and we were talking until late that evening. Several of us went home with David and we had dinner and kept talking. I slept there. Then we came back to the Temple and continued the discussions. The days have gone like that. I didn’t think about anything except the halakhahic discussion. I was lost in it.”
Yosef chuckled, as though nervous. “Yehoshua, my boy, your time has not yet come.”
“When will my time come, Abba?” Yehoshua asked.
“El Elohe Yisra’el shall make that plain to you when the time comes. Until then, your task is to study and be the best man you know how to be,” Yosef said.
Miriam sighed as she looked at her son, “I assumed you were with us when we left Yerushalayim. I should have made certain. I will, absolutely make sure you are with us, in the future. You must keep your mind on earth, my son, even though your heart is with Avinu Malkeinu. I know it is difficult.”
“Yes, Emma,” he said, his voice heavy.
“You are safe. That’s the important thing,” she said, touching his face.
“I didn’t mean to worry you,” the boy said.
“I know you didn’t,” she told him as she hugged him.
The rest of the group was still at the home of Adlai when they returned there with Yehoshua.
After explanation, they gathered their things and headed north to Natsarat.
Yehuda walked beside his father. Miriam walked behind the rest of the men and boys, along with her sister-in-law. Miriam wished she knew what Yehuda and Yosef were talking about so animatedly. Yet, she wondered if she would like it, at all. Yehuda had been strongly advocating for sending Yehoshua to Yerushalayim for advanced education. This episode would be additional fuel for that campaign.
The walk home was uneventful. Even the curiosity from the neighbors wasn’t all that bad, once they had arrived home. The typical response to learning that they had found Yehoshua in the Temple was for the neighbor to simply smile and acknowledge that sounded like the boy. Any other child might have gotten into mischief, but it seemed suitable to their minds that Yehoshua should have been found to be in the Temple, talking about the meaning of the scriptures.
Soon, village life moved on. It became something of a good natured village joke, each time the men and boys left for Yerushalayim as the pilgrim festivals approached, to remind Yehoshua to return to Natsarat with the men and boys, instead of staying behind to talk with the priests and scribes. However, there was no malice in those words.
Chapter Sixteen
During Yehoshua’s seventeenth year, on the first day after the men came back from Yerushalayim after making their pilgrim festival of Sukkot, Yehoshua and Yosef were in the carpenter’s shop loading a set of dining couches and a table, a commission from a wealthy woman in Sepphoris, onto the cart. The plan was to leave about that morning and make the delivery midday, then come back by nightfall. But, plans often go awry.
Miriam and most of the neighboring women were in the courtyard, taking advantage of the light to do their sewing, weaving, and other tasks. She looked up from her work and saw her son coming out of the shop, carrying Yosef in his arms.
“Emma!” Yehoshua shouted, through his tears.
She swallowed hard and blinked back the tears she felt threaten as she saw her son cradling the too still form of her husband. “Does he live?” she forced herself to ask.
“He breathes, still,” Yehoshua said. “Hurry, Emma! Prepare the couch. We need to warm him; he
grows cold.”
Miriam ran into her house. Her son, carrying Yosef, followed. She placed a wool blanket over the couch and Yehoshua laid his Abba there.
After quickly wetting a scrap of linen, Miriam wiped down Yosef’s face and throat, before moving to his hands and feet. “He’s covered in cold sweat, Son. What happened?”
“He just collapsed, Emma. We had just loaded the table onto the cart and suddenly he was on the ground.”
“You’ve done all you can do, Son. Go, summon your brothers and sisters. They need to be here, with him,” Miriam told him. “He is not long for this world.”
“Miriam, I’ll go for the others,” Shoshonah, Yehuda’s wife, offered. She had followed them into the house from the courtyard where she, too, had been working. Miriam hadn’t even realized her daughter-in-law was there until that moment. “You both stay with him.”
“Thank you, dear Sister,” Yehoshua replied, not taking his eyes off his Abba.
Very quickly, all of Yosef’s children and grandchildren gathered around him. Yosef’s brother, Halphai, his wife and children were also present.
Yehuda recited the viddui for his father, a general confession in Hebrew, “Ashamnu,” we have been guilty, “bagadnu,” we have betrayed, “gazalnu”, we have stolen, “dibarnu dofi,” we have spoken falsely, “he’evinu,” we have caused others to sin, “v’hirshanu”, we have caused others to do evil, “zadnu,” we have had evil hearts, “chasmasnu,” we have become violent, “tafalnu sheqer,” we have been dishonest, “ya’atznu ra,” we have advised evil, “kizavnu,” we have broken promises, “latznu,” we have been contemptuous, “maradnu,” we have rebelled, “ni’atznu,” we have been scornful, “sararnu,” we have been disobedient, “’avinu,” we have succumbed to temptation, “pasha’nu,” we have transgressed, “tzararnu,” we have persecuted and oppressed others, “qishinu ‘oref,” we have been stubbornly arrogant, “rasha’nu,” we have been wicked, “shichatnu,” we have corrupted, “ti’avnu,” we have committed abomiGoyim, “ta’inu,” we have gone astray, “ti’ta’nu”, we have been led astray, “sarnu,” we have turned away. “Sh’ma yisra’el adonai eloheinu adonai echad,” Hear, O Israel, the Lord your God, the Lord is one.
Yosef seemed to struggle greatly for each breath. He did not regain consciousness. Then wheezing, Yosef breathed no more.
Miriam lost the battle with the tears. Silently, she stood there, looking at him, her vision blurred because of the hot stream falling from her eyes. Oh, Yosef, my love, shalom.
Yehuda took his father’s hand in his and felt for a pulse. Finding none, he placed his hand on Yosef’s chest to feel for a breath. “Baruch atah Adonai Elokeinu melech haolam, dayan ha'emet”, Blessed are you, Lord our God, King of the Universe, the one true judge, he said, then he tore at his mantle, in the center, over his heart. As Yehuda did this, Shimon, Miriam, and Yehoshua uttered the words, and tore their mantles as well. Yosef’s daughters repeated the action. The sound of mourning cries and the ripping of cloth overflowed into the neighborhood.
Several neighboring men came shortly thereafter to wash and prepare Yosef’s body for burial. His sons would have done this for him, but it was improper for a man’s sons to uncover their father’s nakedness. Miriam would have done this for Yosef, but the neighbor men insisted on doing this last act of kindness for him.
Miriam left her home while the men prepared the body of her husband for burial. Devorah sat Miriam down and gave her a cup of honey mead.
“I simply can’t believe he’s gone,” Miriam said, shaking her head and sighing.
Devorah nodded. “Drink the mead, Miriam. You could use the strength. You look pale.”
“Thank you. You’ve always been a good neighbor.”
“As have you,” Devorah said, laying a comforting hand on Miriam’s shoulder.
While the neighbor men prepared the body, Yehuda, Shimon, Yaacov, and Yehoshua arranged for a tomb for their father. It wasn’t a new tomb. But it had been cleaned after the last set of bones had been removed to the ossuary and it would serve well for Yosef, during the time he would spend there.
Yosef’s sons, brother, brother’s sons, and sons-in-law, along with several neighbors, carried Yosef’s shrouded body, on a bier, from the house to the village tombs. The rest of the family walked along with the pallbearers. Seven times on the way, they stopped to chant a psalm in Hebrew.
At the tomb, they sang that psalm again, and Yehuda led them in prayer.
The body was taken into the tomb and laid on a stone shelf. Everyone who wanted was allowed to go into the tomb to privately say goodbye to Yosef and to ask his forgiveness and/or forgive him for anything unresolved between the two of them.
Then as the stone door of the tomb was rolled into place, Shimon led them in verse, “V’hu rachum, y’chapayr ovon, v’lo yashchis, c’hirboh l’hoshiv apo, v’lo yoir kol chamoso,” He being compassionate, pardons iniquity, and does not destroy; time and again He turns away His anger, and does not arouse all His wrath.
Yehuda started to speak, but Yehoshua said, “Brother, I would speak.”
Yehuda nodded and stepped back.
Yehoshua led them in praying for Yosef, chanting the psalm, “Lord, who shall sojourn in Thy tabernacle? Who shall dwell upon Thy holy mountain? He that walks uprightly, and works righteousness, and speaks truth in his heart; That has no slander upon his tongue, nor does evil to his fellow nor takes on a reproach against his neighbor … He that does these things shall never be moved.”
His voice broke, then he pulled himself back together and continued, “Abba’s passing will leave a large emptiness in our lives. Though Abba is gone from us, the bond of love which unites us to him can never be broken. We can best pay him the tribute which he so richly deserves in cherishing the ideals and principles he taught us, by loyally upholding the heritage of Yisra’el which he transmitted to us, and by serving both Adonai and our neighbors. May El Ele Yisra’el grant us the strength and courage to continue to live in ways that honor our Abba. Let us pray.”
He prayed, “Avinu Malkeinu, may our Abba’s soul be bound up in eternal life, together with the souls of all the righteous that are in Thy keeping.”
Everyone said, “Amein”
Then Yehuda led them in singing another psalm in Hebrew. After that, the neighbors formed into two lines as they left the burial grounds. As the family walked between the two lines of neighbors, the neighbors all wished that the Lord would grant them comfort.
They returned to Natsarat, just before dark.
All that remained was the grieving. Miriam knew she would mourn for Yosef the rest of her life. She sobbed a bit as she reflected that Yosef was wearing her cloth, as she had woven his shroud, in death as he had in life. She’d never make another piece of clothing for him.
It all seemed so unreal to her. Just this morning, he was smiling, laughing, making plans to talk to a girl’s father about that girl and Yehoshua marrying. Without a father to arrange a marriage for him, how would Yehoshua marry?
Yehoshua put his arm around his mother. “We will see him in the resurrection, Emma.”
She forced a smile as she looked up at her son. “In the resurrection, my son.”
Arriving back at their home, one of the neighbors had provided a crock of water and cups for hand washing, as well as several towels, just outside the door. Inside the house, someone had lit two oil lamps to fill the house with light, brought flat bread, sliced hard cooked eggs, lentil stew, and cheese for this dinner of condolence. This was the beginning of the seven days of shiva.
Yehuda said, “We can’t sit shiva here, Miriam. There isn’t enough room for all of us. We’d be on top of one another. Come over to our house.”
“A man should be mourned in his own house,” Miriam protested.
“Our house was Abba’s. He lived there much of his life. You would have been living there with him when you returned from Egypt, except for Abba’s compassion towards my wife and myself,” Yehuda argued. �
��Miram, I beg you, come sit shiva at the bigger house. The whole family can be there, all eight of us who are required to sit shiva—his children, you, and his brother—and we’ll be together without being on one another’s nerves. There will be room for everyone including condolence callers. We will be far more comfortable in the bigger house, as opposed to being cramped up here. There will be room for some privacy. It would be far better for family harmony.”
Miriam said, “Very well. That does seem to be the best alternative. We’ll be there first thing tomorrow, Yehuda. Everyone needs to sleep now. I will see you all in the morning. I want to sleep here tonight. I need a little time to myself.”
“Emma, should I leave you?” Yehoshua asked.
She cringed at her words, as those had obviously made him feel unwanted. That hadn’t been her intention. She forced a smile. “No, Son. Stay with me, please. Read to me. I do love hearing you read.”
Chapter Seventeen
All of Yosef’s children from his first marriage, their spouses and children, Miriam, Yehoshua, along with Yosef’s brother and his wife and sons and his sons’ wives, and their children, were gathered at Yehuda’s house for the first Shabbat dinner after they had buried Yosef.
The Shabbat interrupted their days of strict morning as Shabbat always takes priority over outward mourning. Their ripped mourning clothes were put off, and Shabbat clothes put on. Faces were washed, hair anointed. Yet, the family stayed in the house, and prayed here, instead of going to the village Beyt T’fila, synagogue. There was a minyan, a prayer quorum of at least ten males over the age of thirteen, within the family, so condolence callers weren’t required to make up the numbers to be able to pray the entire service.
Yosef’s sons’ wives, daughters’ husbands, and their children, as well as Halphai’s wife and sons and his son’s wives, were not among the official mourners sitting shiva, so they were free to come and go at will.
