by Woods, Karen
Not yet, but soon. Just a matter of days now. And she didn’t know how any of them would react to his rising from the dead. He’d said they weren’t ready. But, here they were. There was no more time to get them prepared. Soon, her only son would be numbered with the transgressors. Although he was innocent, he would be held by the law to be a sinner worthy of death.
Death. A cold shiver ran along her spine. She forced herself to be calm, even though she wanted to cry, scream, and take desperate actions to save him.
She had known this moment would come, ever since Zechariah had shown her the prophecies. She could only pray, trust, that Hosea’s prophecy about the resurrection of her son on the third day was correct as well.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Yehuda left the room, allowing the women to pray their morning prayers and dress. Then Miriam let Yehuda and several of the other men back into the room.
Halphai took his wife into his arms and held her for a long time. So did Yehuda with Shoshonah.
Miriam, for just a moment, felt more alone than she had ever felt in her whole life. She felt more lonely than she had when her parents had left her to serve in the Temple; more lonely than she had when she was told that her parents had died; more lonely than when Zechariah had told her that she was to leave the service of the Temple and was to marry; more lonely than when Yosef had died.
Then she pulled herself together. Her son had said these people would need her strength. His people would need someone to rally around, at least until the Holy Spirit came upon them. She wondered if they would feel the same kind of joy and overwhelming love she had felt so long ago. But for now, these people needed her.
She cleared her throat. “We need to find out what is happening.”
Halphai said, “They took Yehoshua to the home of Annas. I suspect it is not long until they take him before Yosef bar Kayafa, and then to Pontius Pilatus.”
She nodded tightly. “They will seek his life.”
Miriamne sobbed uncontrollably.
The wife of Herod’s steward said, “Herod is in the city for the feast. I may be able to get Herod to intervene and save Yehoshua. After all, the Master is one of Herod’s citizens.”
“Herod and Pilate hate one another,” Yehuda said. “I can’t believe Herod asking for Yehoshua would do anything except make Pilate more adamant about keeping him, if Yehoshua goes to Pilate to begin with, that is.”
Halphai spoke in a tight voice, “After Simon Cephas cut off the ear of the servant of the high priest, Yehoshua healed the man and commanded that the swords be put away. Then he turned to us and said, ‘Shall I not drink of the cup My Father has given to Me?’ I think we can safely say Yehoshua is prepared to follow this through until the end.”
“What do you think the story he told you about His being the good shepherd who lays down his life for his sheep; what do you think that was about?” Miriam asked.
Andreas looked at her, sharply. Yet, he said nothing. Neither did anyone else.
Miriam shook her head. “What do you think Yoni meant when he called my son, ‘the Lamb of God’? What is the function of a lamb without blemish at the Pesach? He is offering himself once and for all, for the sin of the world.”
They all looked at one another.
Halphai sighed heavily. “How can you bear this?”
Miriam drew a deep breath. “Simeon, the old prophet who used to practically live in the Temple, told me after Yehoshua’s pidyon ha-ben that a sword would pierce my heart. That sword is one of sorrow. I bear this, because I must. He will bear more than I. He will be the lamb slain, not like the scapegoat or Pesach lamb which is a yearly sacrifice, but once and for all.”
Everyone looked at her as though she were mad.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Miriam, Yochanan bar Zebedee, Shlomit the mother of the sons of Zebedee, Miriam the wife of Halphai, Miriamne called Magdala, stood at the edge of the crowd.
They’d been approached a few minutes ago by a man offering them silver coins to shout for the release of the murderer known as bar Abbas, the son of the father, instead of Yeshoshua of Natsarat.
Miriam noted how readily the people around them, some of whom she had seen greet her son with shouts of “Hosanna!” only a few days ago at his entry into the city, had accepted the bribe, blood money from parushim and the Sanhedrin. She blinked back tears and bit her lip. She had to be strong. He would need for her to be strong.
The mashal, the proverb, came to her mind, “He who justifies the wicked, and he who condemns the just, both are an abomination in the eyes of Adonai”. She silently prayed for those who were about to call for the release of the murderer and the execution of her son, that Avinu Malkeinu would bring them to repent of this double abomination.
Pilate spoke to the crowd, asking them who they would have released to them. The crowd shouted for the man called bar Abbas.
Pilate again asked the crowd if he should release to them Yehoshua of Natsarat.
But the crowd merely shouted to crucify him.
“Why? What evil has he done? I have found no reason for death in him. I have had him scourged and I will release him,” Pilate said.
But the crowd lead by certain of the parushim and the priests, worked the crowd, stirring them up to call for Yehoshua’s crucification.
“Shall I crucify your king?” Pilate asked.
Miriam heard the priests say, “We have no king but Caesar!”
Pilate then washed his hands, saying, “I am innocent of the blood of this man. You see to it, yourselves.”
The man called bar Abbas was released, Yehoshua was led away by the soldiers, and many in the crowd walked away.
The women and Yochanan stayed there. A little while later, Yeshoshua and two other men were brought out under heavy guard. Each of the men carried the wooden beam of the cross piece.
Following along, the women and Yochanan bar Zebedee, saw Yehoshua fall, again and again, under the weight of the crossbeam.
Miriam’s heart was filled with pain. Pilate said he had ordered her son to be scourged. She couldn’t imagine the pain he was in from the Roman whips. She doubted he had been allowed any sleep the night before while he had been in the custody of the parushim and the priests. She wanted to cry. Instead, she prayed for him, that he could be strong.
A woman came out of the crowd to wipe his face during one of the falls. The Roman soldiers chased her off.
The soldiers pulled a man from the crowd along the street. It was obvious that the man had just now come into the city from the country for Pesach. He had two young men with him. She assumed those were his sons.
The man protested his being treated this way. Miriam could see the fear in his eyes as the soldiers ordered him to pick up the crossbeam and to carry it for Yehoshua.
Women, along the road, wept and wailed, mourning for him. Miriam didn’t trust herself to be able to bring herself back under control if she allowed herself to fall apart.
She heard her son address them as he continued walking, being prodded on by the soldiers. “Daughters of Yerushalayim, weep not for me, but weep for yourselves and your children. For the days are truly coming in which they will say ‘Blessed are the barren, wombs that never bore and breasts which never nursed.’ Then they will begin ‘to say to the mountains “Fall on us” and to the hills, “Cover us”.’”
Miriam recognized the quote from the prophet Hosea.
Her son continued speaking, “For if they do these things in the green wood, what will be done in the dry?”
What will be done in the dry? Miriam echoed in her mind. She shuddered to think about that as some of her son’s teachings came back to her. Words and phrases filled her mind. “I come not to bring peace, but a sword.” “All men will hate you because of me.” “He who does not take up his cross and follow after me is not worthy of me.”
They went out of the city gates and towards the place of the skull, the place of execution.
Yosef of Arimathea, along
with Nicodemus bar Gurion, came to her as they walked behind the execution party. Yosef spoke to her without preamble. “I have a tomb. Near here, in a garden. It’s a new tomb, no one has ever lain in it. I had it prepared for myself. Would you accept this for him?”
Miriam looked at him. He was a rich man, a member of the Sanhedrin. She had seen him from time to time, well after dark, when he had come secretly to her son to learn from him. In this both he and Nicodemus were similar; both powerful men who had come to her son under the cover of darkness. She remembered the prophecy from Yisyahu, the prophecy of the Suffering Servant, and spoke that aloud, “‘And I will give the wicked for his burial, and the rich for his death; for he practised no iniquity.’ So speaks Yisyahu about this moment. Yes. I will accept your tomb for him. And I thank you for your kindness.”
“Then we will go make preparations. It’s all we can now do for him,” Yosef of Arimathea said. “I will leave my servant, Chaim, here. When the Master is gone from us, Chaim will run to me and I will go to Pilate to ask for permission to remove your son from this place. Shalom, Miriam of Natsarat.” Then without further conversation, the men went about their task.
Miriam prayed silently, He wishes me peace. Yeremiah said, “’Peace, peace’ where there is no peace.” Avinu Malkeinu, my son asks me to be of an easy mind and untroubled spirit. Help me. I cannot do this by myself. Give me your peace, such as you gave me at his conception. Let me face this bravely as my son wishes me to do, even though all I want to do is to cry.
After arriving at the place of execution, she watched as the soldiers stripped her son of everything except His loin cloth. At that moment, she saw His back. The sight of the torn flesh brought the tears she’d been fighting to her eyes and she couldn’t blink them back.
She stood there and prayed for him, prayed for the soldiers, prayed for the parushim who were even now viciously taunting her son while the Romans were in the process of crucifying him.
Each of the spikes driven into his flesh made her feel profoundly ill. Yochanan, the son of Zebedee, put his right arm around her shoulder to steady her and spoke softly to her. His words flowed over her. She recognized the intent was to comfort. But there was precious little comfort to be had.
As tomorrow was the Pesach, none of these three men, the two thieves and her son, would be allowed to remain on these instruments of torture through the festival. None of the parushim would allow this execution to defile the land during the coming holy festival. Their care for the letter of the law was, in some ways, a mercy. Yes, at least, this would end relatively soon.
She watched as the execution squad hung her son in between those two evil doers. A sign was posted above his head. It was written in Latin, “Iesus Nazarenus Rex Iudeaorum.” Beneath that was the same inscription in Greek and in Hebrew.
She heard her son pray, “Father, forgive them, for they don’t know what they do.”
Miriam wanted to cry, but she blinked back the tears and prayed again for the souls of those who were doing this to her son, that they would be brought to repentance.
The Roman soldiers sought to divide his clothing among them, but seeing that his tunic and robe were finely made, woven without seam, they played dice for the garments, there at the foot of her son’s cross, instead of ripping the garments into pieces.
“He saved others, let him save himself,” she heard one of the parushim say.
The criminal on his left side called out, “If you are the Moshiach, save yourself and us.”
But the man on his right side chided the other man, his words coming in short spurts, “Do you not fear God for you are under the same condemnation? Indeed, we deserve this. But he is innocent.” Then the man turned to her son, “Teacher, remember me when you come into your kingdom.”
“Amein. I say to you, today you will be with me in Paradise,” Yehoshua told the man.
Miriam wanted to cry. But her son looked at her just then. The peace on his face, in spite of the pain He had to be in, gave her courage.
An hour or so later, her son looked at her and at Yochanan, the son of Zebedee. “Woman, behold thy son... Son, behold thy Mother.”
Miriam felt the silent tears begin to fall as her son’s gaze moved away from her. It was one thing to see this happening. It was another to have Him, in his pain, make provision for her future even as his mortal future ebbed away in the blood that dripped from His hands and feet.
Shlomit, Yochanan’s mother, took her right hand and squeezed it.
Miriam dashed the tears from her face with her left hand. “I must be strong for him,” she whispered.
“There’s only so strong any of us can be, Sister,” Miriam, wife of Halphai, said. “You’ve been strong for so long.”
Miriam, mother of Yehoshua, sighed. “Avinu Malkeinu is the only strength I have, Sister. He is the only strength any of us really have. I will cling to Him.”
They stood there for a long time. Beginning about noon, the sky became overcast, making the day so dark that the stars became visible in the sky as though it were night. Miriam looked up at the stars and fought back the tears. Even nature was mourning her son.
Near the ninth hour, she heard her son cry out in Aramaic the first line of the mizmor, the psalm, “Eli, Eli, lama sabaqtani”, My God, My God, why have you forsaken me?
Miriam heard one of the parushim who stood nearby say, “Listen, he calls for Eliyahu. Let us see if Eliyahu comes to him.”
She just shook her head. She recited that mizmor, psalm, from memory, completing it for her son. “My God, My God, why have You forsaken me? Why are You so far from helping me and from the words of my roaring? O my God, I cry in the daytime, but You do not hear; and in the night season, and am not silent. But You are holy, O You that inhabits the praises of Yisra’el. Our fathers trusted in You: they trusted and You did deliver them. They cried to You and were delivered: they trusted in You and were not confounded. But, I am a worm, and no man; a reproach of men and despised of the people. All they that see me laugh me to scorn: they shoot out their lips, they shake their heads saying, ‘He trusted in Adonai that he would deliver him: let him deliver him, seeing he delighted in him.’” Her voice broke. After a moment, she continued with the recitation, “But You are he who took me out of the womb: You did make me hope when I was upon my mother’s breast. I was cast upon You from the womb: You are my God from my mother’s belly. Be not far from me; for trouble is near; for there is none to help. Many bulls have compassed me: strong bulls of Bashan have beset me around. They gaped upon me with their mouths, as a ravening and roaring lion. I am poured out like water, and all my bones are out of joint: my heart is like wax; it is melted in the midst of my bowels. My strength is dried up like a potsherd; and my tongue cleaves to my jaws; and You have brought me into the dust of death. For dogs have compassed me: the assembly of the wicked have enclosed me: they pierced my hands and feet…” She shuddered, tears falling down her face. It took a moment for her to bring herself back under control. She took a deep breath to steady herself before continuing, “I may tell all my bones: they look and stare upon me. They part my garments among them, and cast lots for my clothing.”
Miriam, the wife of Halphai, gave a small gasp.
Yet, Miriam, the mother of Yehoshua continued reciting, “But be not far from me, Adonai: O my strength, hurry to help me. Deliver my soul from the sword; deliver me from the power of the dog. Save me from the lion’s mouth: for You have heard me from the horns of the unicorns. I will declare Your name to my brethren: in the midst of the congregation I will praise You. You that fear Adonai, praise him; all you the seed of Yaacov, glorify him; and fear him, all you the seed of Yisra’el. For he has not despised nor abhorred the affliction of the afflicted; neither has he hid his face from him; but when he cried to him, he heard. My praise will be of You in the great congregation: I will pay my vows before them that fear him. The meek shall eat and be satisfied: they shall praise Adonai that seek him: Your heart will live forever. All the end
s of the world shall remember and turn to Adonai: and all the families of the Goyim shall bow down before You, for the kingdom belongs to Adonai: he is the governor among the Goyim. All the rich of the earth shall eat and worship: before him shall bow down all who go down to the dust, even the one who could not keep himself alive. Posterity shall serve him; this shall be told to the generations coming. They shall come and proclaim his righteousness to a people yet unborn, that he has done it.”
Miriamne, the one called Magdala, sighed heavily. After a moment, she asked, “Do you think this is what the Teacher meant?”
Miriam, his mother, nodded tightly in the affirmative. “My son knows the scriptures better than I do. He’s reminding us that this all was foretold hundreds of years ago, right down to the Romans dicing for his clothing and the taunting of the parushim.”
He spoke again from the cross, “I thirst.”
One of the soldiers put a sponge on a hyssop branch and soaked the sponge in wine vinegar. He offered it to Yehoshua, who tasted it.
“It is completed,” Yehoshua said. Then in a loud voice, he prayed half of the same prayer, the passage from the psalm, he had always said before sleeping, “Father, into Your hand I commit my spirit.” Then he bowed his head and stopped breathing.
Out of the corner of her eye, Miriam saw the servant of Yosef of Arimathea run towards town.
At that same moment, the earth shook violently, lightning flashed, and the wind blew hard as though a major storm were coming.
The Roman Centurion in charge of the execution, after observing all, said after everything settled down, “Surely, this man was the Son of God.”
Her companions urged her to leave this place. Miriam refused, deciding to stay until her son was no longer on that instrument of torture.
A Roman soldier came running from the city. He handed written orders to the Centurion. She overheard the Centurion give orders to break the legs of the three men hanging on the crosses. The soldiers broke the legs of the two thieves but seeing that her son was was already dead, they did not break his legs.
