Mother's Eyes

by Woods, Karen

  “’He protects his bones: not a one of them will be broken’,” Miriam said, quoting the mizmor, the psalm.

  Everyone looked at her strangely. She felt their questioning glances more than saw them.

  She watched as one of the soldiers took his spear and pierced her son’s left side, driving the point of the lance deeply into his body. Her son did not react. When the soldier pulled out the spear, there came a flow of both blood and water.

  “If he wasn’t already dead,” Yochanan bar Zebedee said in horror, “that spear wound would have killed him.”

  Miriam sighed and dashed tears from her face. “That seems to be the reason for the blow. It is a good thing his spirit had already gone into the hands of Avinu Malkeinu.”

  “Let us leave this place,” Yocahanan urged.

  “Not yet. I need to see him taken down from there.”

  Just a few moments later, Yosef of Arimathea and Nicodemus, along with several servants, came to take possession of the body. They presented the written orders to the Centurion, who gave orders to take down her son’s body from the cross and to give it to the men.

  Miriam approached Yosef and Nicodemus. “Is all arranged?”

  “We’ll see to his burial,” Nicodemus said.

  Miriam stood there watching the men wrap her son’s body in linen and spices. They did not wash his body, leaving his blood on his body as a testimony against the violence done to him, according to the tradition of their people. Then they put his body on a bier and carried him to the new tomb that belonged to Yosef of Arimathea.

  Miriam and her group followed the stretcher, chanting the same mizmor, psalm, they had chanted for her Yosef’s burial. Miriam’s voice broke as she sang the psalm. Tears flowed freely down her face. Even though she knew this was part of the prophecy, her heart was breaking.

  They stood and watched as the men placed Yehoshua’s body in the tomb.

  Miriam and the women cried out in the manner of the women who were often paid to lament the dead.

  “Pesach begins soon,” Nicodemus said after the men had rolled the door stone over the mouth of the tomb.

  “Yes,” Miriam said, her voice tight.

  Yosef of Arimathea said, “I have sent a man to take food to your lodgings. I know that you haven’t had the time to make your Pesach meal. This food should serve for tonight and the Shabbat.”

  “Thank you,” Miriam said on a sigh. “I can never repay you for your kindness.”

  “If you need anything… anything…” Nicodemus offered.

  “’Weeping may last for a night, but joy comes in the morning’,” she quoted the mizmor to him.

  Chapter Thirty

  They, many of her son’s men and women, sang the blessings over the food, washed their hands, and began to eat the Pesach dinner sent to them by Yosef of Arimathea. However, their mood was anything except festive.

  Normally, she would have been sitting shiva for her son, but this was not only the Shabbat, but also Pesach. Both those holy days absolutely forbade formal mourning for the dead.

  Simon, the one called “Cephas”, came into the room in the company of Yochanan bar Zebedee.

  “There’s a blood moon tonight,” Simon Cephas said, his voice tight.

  Several of them rose from the table to go to look.

  Miriam quoted the prophecy from Yoel. “‘The sun will turn to darkness and the moon to blood’.”

  “What?” Simon Cephas asked, clearly shaken.

  “The prophet Yoel foretold this would come to pass before the awesome day of Adonai,” Miriam said.

  “Before…What else can happen?” Simon Cephas replied, his voice rising in shocked and panicked tone.

  “My son told you what would happen. We are to remain in Yerushalayim until the Holy Spirit comes upon us.”

  “I don’t even know what that means,” Simon Cephas dismissed, his voice pained.

  Miriam nodded. “When the Holy Spirit came upon me when my son was conceived, it was a moment of great, overwhelming, joy. I’m not sure what it will be at this manifestation. But, I’m eager for it. Whatever the result, it will be something we need for the work before us.”

  “He’s dead,” Simon Cephas reminded them.

  “He offered himself for the sin of the world, a spotless Pesach lamb,” Miriam said. “Have you not heard anything that my son said to you over these years you’ve been with him?”

  “He’s dead!” Simon Cephas said once more.

  “All of this is according to prophecy. It all has been told in the writings. All of it available for anyone who has ears to hear and eyes to read,” Miriam said. “All of it. Right down to the Romans casting lots for his garments, the darkness at noon when we saw the stars, to the earthquake, to the blood moon tonight. All of it. His whole life has been a matter of prophecy. His death is equally so.” And His resurrection will be as well, she thought but did not say. They still weren’t ready to understand that. She didn’t know if they could understand this.

  And yet, she did know that they would never fully understand this. All of it was as beyond them as the stars were beyond the earth. As many years as she had studied the prophecies, she still didn’t fully understand any of this, either. So, how could she expect these men to understand in only a space of the three years that most of them had been with her son? All any of them could do was to trust in Avinu Malkeinu.

  “Come, Cephas, have something to eat,” she offered. “We will talk of prophecy.”

  “I’m not sure that staying together is a good idea. They’ve taken the Master. They could be coming for us, next,” Simon Cephas offered.

  “‘Strike the shepherd and the sheep scatter’?” Miriam asked. “We can’t let that happen. He wants us to remain together. Knowing that this was coming, He asked me to stay with you, to be a mother to all of you. When the Holy Spirit comes, it will be a good thing if you are all in one place. Come, eat, now, Simon.”

  “How can you even want to eat with me? I denied him, not once, but three times,” he said, his voice full of pain and shame. “I don’t know why you’re speaking to me. I’ve failed him, failed all of you.”

  Miriam smiled at him. She crossed the room to him and touched his hand. “He knew you would deny Him, and He still kept you near him as long as he could. He told you at supper what you would do. He loved, loves, you, dearly, Cephas. Should I do any less than love you? He told us to love one another. I will obey Him.”

  She watched Simon Cephas swallow hard. “I still think we ought to split up to make it harder for them to find us.”

  Miriam forced a smile. “No. We must stay together. The authorities don’t want us. They only wanted to silence my son. Now, they think they’ve done it. But I suppose this blood moon tonight and the darkness and the shaking of the earth earlier today has some of them wondering if they’ve taken the wrong side. Perhaps, these signs will lead them to repentance. If so, this would be a mercy for their souls. Adonai doesn’t seek the death of sinners, but only that they would repent of their evil ways and live… Now, come and eat, Simon, my dear. We have an abundance of food.”

  “I just don’t understand. He was the Moshiach, I know he is…was,” Simon Cephas said over dinner. “How could this happen to him?”

  “It’s all part of the plan. Avinu Malkeinu spoke through Yisayahu about this. He said, ‘He poured himself out unto death and was numbered with the transgressors.’”

  “But all of this?” Cephas asked.

  Miriam forced a smile. She walked them through the prophecies about her son’s life and death from the writings of Moses, Daniel, Micah, Isaiah, the psalms of David, the proverbs of Solomon, Hosea, Jeremiah, and many more. No one dared interrupt her. “So, yes, all of this. The great work He’s come to do is not yet done. There is more to come.”

  “He’s dead!” Simon Cephas dismissed.

  “We’re not. And you haven’t listened to what my son told you. He said He was going away, but that He would come again to you. Don’t
you remember that?”

  “Is that possible?” Miriamne, called Magdala, asked, her voice little more than a whisper.

  “Why should anything surprise you?” Miriam asked. “His whole life has been based on miracles, many of which you yourselves have seen.”

  “He raised others from the dead,” Simon Cephas allowed. “But himself?”

  “Do you remember what He told you in the Temple?” Miriam asked.

  “He said a lot of things in the Temple, Miriam,” Yaacov bar Yosef answered. “What are you talking about?”

  “He said if they pulled down the temple of His body, that He would raise it again in three days,” Miriam replied.

  “You honestly believe that he will rise from the dead?” Simon Cephas demanded.

  “I do,” Miriam replied. “I truly do. And His enemies do as well. At least, they believe that He said He would. If they have not already gone to Pilate, they will. There will be an armed guard on the tomb, if there is not already one there. And I suspect the stone that closed the tomb will be sealed. But this will be useless. No force on earth can stop the plan of Elohim.” She sighed, shook her head, and smiled. “Now, if we’re finished eating, shall we sing our praises to Avinu Malkeinu and get some sleep? I don’t know about you, but I’m quite weary.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Miriam awoke on the morning of the first day of the week. The sun had not yet come up. Several of the women were going to go to the tomb with spices and ointments for Yehoshua’s body. Nicodemus and Yosef of Arimathea had wrapped the body in linen with nearly her own weight of aloes and myrrh before laying the body in the new tomb that had been carved out of the rock. That many spices were worth a king’s ransom. Yet, other ointments and spices were sometimes used on bodies. After Shabbat ended last night, the women had spent several hours preparing the costly ointments and perfumes. This room still smelled of the sweet spices.

  She said her morning prayers and rose from her mat. After pulling on her clothes, she lit a lamp and washed her face and hands, as well as combed out her hair and dressed it for the day, before laying out breakfast for the women.

  This would be the third day. Hosea foretold the resurrection of her son on the third day. She hoped it was so. Today would tell.

  Miriamne and Miriam, the wife of Halphai, rose and quicky dressed. Then they left the room, taking some of the ointments with them.

  Quietly, Miriam prayed, “O my Father, my King, my son is in your hands. So much of His life has been told by centuries old prophecies. You have brought Him into the world. I told the angel long ago that I am your handmaid. I remain so. And as your servant, it is my place to wait on you, to offer the works of my hands according to Your will. Your will has been clear, until now. My Lord and Master, give me Your peace that I may be quiet of soul, particularly on this day. There is so much turmoil within me, with hope warring with the stark reality I’ve seen with my own eyes. Let me be at peace enough to say, ‘Your will be done’ as my son taught us to pray.”

  Yaacov, her stepson, whom the followers of her son called ‘the Just’, touched her shoulder. “Miriam, whatever happens, happens. We can no more change any of this than we can remake the world. That’s a decision for Adonai.”

  “I know, Yaacov, my dear. I know. Come, eat. It is only bread, ale, and cheese. But it is enough to start the day with. There have been many times, we did not have even this much.”

  “You have always taken care of everyone around you. Even when we were in Egypt, you always made sure Yosef, Yehoshua, and I had enough food, although I noted on more than one occasion that meant you ate little, if anything, particularly after Yehoshua weaned.”

  Miriam felt her face grow warm. She thought she’d long ago lost the ability to blush like a girl. Apparently, she hadn’t. “A woman does what she has to do. Now, sit and eat.”

  “I haven’t prayed yet. I’m going to the Temple to pray there,” Yaacov replied.

  “I’m going over to the tomb.”

  “Are you sure you want to do that?” he asked.

  “The women want to take the perfumes and ointments to supplement the myrrh and aloes Nicodemus and Yosef of Arimathea used in preparing him for the tomb. I said I would go with them. Miriamne and Halphai’s Miriam have already gone out. I imagine the rest of us will leave within a half hour to be there shortly after first light.”

  She heard the other women stirring. “Go pray. Do you need money for an offering at the Temple or the mikveh?”

  He shook his head. “No, Emma, I have all I need. Take care of yourself today. I will be back before noon. Do you need me to buy anything for you in the market?”

  She sighed. “I’ll go myself later in the day.”

  “Very well.”

  She watched him go.

  It was less than a half hour later when they reached the tomb. The stone had been rolled away from the entrance.

  Hope fought with fear as she walked toward the entrance of the tomb. Had he risen from the dead as the prophecy said he would?

  The guards who had been posted at his tomb were missing. Miriam couldn’t blame the guards for that. Roma was not forgiving of failure, in the least.

  Miriam went into the tomb, the other women followed after her. There was no body in the tomb. The grave linens lay on the stone shelf, the headwrap lay folded neatly, away from the other linen of the burial shroud.

  Just then two men wearing shining garments appeared in the tomb. Miriam and the other women fell to their knees then put their faces to the ground, honoring these clearly heavenly beings.

  “Fear not. You seek Yehoshua of Natsarat. He is not here. He has risen from the dead…”

  Miriam felt the tears of joy fill her eyes. He had risen, as the prophecies had said he would. She didn’t hear the rest of what the angel said as she prayed a silent prayer of thanksgiving for her son’s resurrection. Then she was aware of her daughter-in-law Shoshonah, kneeling beside her, touching her shoulder, and saying in concern, “Miriam!”

  Miriam rose to her feet. The angels were gone.

  “Come, dear,” Yoanna said, “we will go to the men and tell them.”

  Miriam smiled. “All of this was in the prophecies, just like everything else about my son’s life.”

  “Tell us about it while we walk?” Shoshonah asked.

  By the time they were back to their lodgings, Miriam had told them the prophecies.

  Miriamne was there. She came over to them. “Someone has taken him. The tomb is empty.”

  “He has risen from the dead,” Miriam answered. “Angels told us.”

  Simon Cephas and Yochanan bar Zebedee left the room. Miriam stood at the door, watching the two men run towards the tomb. Miriamne followed them.

  “You can’t be serious?” Yaacov bar Zebedee demanded. “He has risen from the dead?”

  Yoanna, the wife of Chuza, spoke, telling them about the prophecies of which Miriam had taught them only moments before.

  The men looked at them, their jaws dropping.

  Miriam smiled. “My son told you that he would rise again from the dead. He told you this repeatedly. Why haven’t you believed him?”

  But no one had any answer for her.

  “He has risen, indeed,” Simon Cephas said, as after he and Yochanan returned to them.

  “We saw an angel who told us this,” Miriam said with a small smile.

  Miriamne returned to them, shortly after the men came back. “I have seen the Teacher. He spoke to me,” she said. And yet, according to Miriamne’s own story, she hadn’t recognized Yehoshua until he had spoken to her.

  Halphai and Lucas, the physician, set out for Emmaus, a village not too far from Yerushalayim. Just before Miriam and the women were to serve a very late dinner, both Halphai and Lucas came rushing into the room.

  “We have seen Yehoshua!” Halphai said. Then he told them the story of how a man had joined them on the walk and had talked to them of prophecy. They hadn’t recognized him until they’d at down t
o eat and he had taken bread to bless it. They’d known him at that point. And then he vanished before their sight.

  “So, was he a spirit?” Yehuda asked his uncle.

  “He seemed solid enough, flesh and blood, as we walked together. And he did take bread in his hands and blessed and broke it,” Halphai said. “A spirit can’t do that.”

  “You’ve known him since birth. Why didn’t you recognize him?” Yehuda asked.

  Halphai shook his head and sighed. “We weren’t expecting to see him. Besides, until the last moment, he looked different to our eyes.”

  “I didn’t recognize him either, until he called me by name,” Miriamne said.

  “I saw him earlier, myself,” Yaacov bar Yosef said. “It was amazing.”

  “We’re all here, except for Teom and I don’t expect him. Halphai, if you’d bar the door against intruders? Come, everyone, and eat. It has been a long, and far too exciting, day,” Miriam urged.

  During dinner, while Miriam refilled the cups of those seated at table, she suddenly became aware of her son standing just inside the barred doors.

  “Peace be unto you,” he said.

  Miriam found herself smiling as she looked into her son’s eyes. Yet, it was clear that most of the men in the room were frightened, as if they were seeing a ghost.

  “Why are you troubled? Why do doubts rise in your minds? Look at my hands and feet. It is I, myself. Touch me and see. A ghost does not have flesh and bones, as I have.”

  Even after He showed them His hands and feet, it was clear to Miriam that the men were torn between joy and amazement.

  “Do you have anything for me to eat?” Yehoshua asked.

  Yochanan bar Zebedee gave him a piece of fish.