by Joan Wolf
Jeremiah packed my limited belongings on one of the donkeys Lazarus had brought. I was to ride on the other one; Lazarus would walk.
Julia and I exchanged an embrace in the middle of my courtyard before I left. “Will I see you again?” I whispered into her ear as we clung together.
“You’re not coming back to Sepphoris, are you?”
We released each other. “No. I don’t believe I can.”
She smiled at me. “Then I will come to visit you. Take time to heal, Mary. Don’t make any rushed decisions. And write to me.”
I kissed her cheek. “Thank you for everything, my mother.”
Her blue eyes glistened with tears. “Go.”
I nodded and went out to join Lazarus in the street.
The journey wasn’t difficult. We took the road through the fertile and beautiful Jezreel Valley to the Jordan River, turned south to Jericho, and were soon at Bethany. The weather was beginning to heat up, and the grain harvest was still under way. I had made this journey many times during my years with Aaron, when we went to Jerusalem for Passover, but I had always traveled in a litter. I found it far more enjoyable to be on foot.
Bethany looked tiny to eyes that were accustomed to Sepphoris, but I was glad to be there. When I saw my little sister running to meet me, I felt a surge of happiness for the first time since I’d lost my baby. She flung herself into my arms, like a child herself, and I hugged her hard. She was much smaller than I; the top of her head only came to my nose. I had always thought she was adorable.
She hugged me back. Then she pulled away and gave me a stern look that sat strangely on her round, innocent face. “You’re too thin. It’s a good thing you came to us, Mary. You need some good Jewish cooking to fatten you up.”
Martha was a wonderful cook. I grinned at her. “I invite you to try.”
She laughed and said, “Come into the house for some refreshment. You must both be hungry and thirsty after your journey.”
Meekly, both Lazarus and I followed her inside.
No better people exist in the world than my brother and sister, Lazarus and Martha. I burrowed into their lives like a fox burrows into its den, seeking safety from the pain of the world outside.
There was another reason to keep to the house. In the eyes of the townspeople I was a sinner from Sepphoris, and they knew they should shun me. Although everyone in Bethany loved my brother and sister, still they suffered, dutifully ignoring me and thus offending Lazarus and Martha. The easiest way out of this difficulty was for me to avoid the town, which was no hardship. I was busy trying to figure out what to do with my life.
My mind and heart were such a chaos of warring thoughts and emotions that it was hard for me to think. Being back in an observant Jewish household, with its regular round of prayers and careful attention to ritual cleanliness, struck a chord I thought I’d put behind me. It had been a long time since I had prayed. I didn’t know if I could anymore. I didn’t know if I even wanted to.
But every day I saw Lazarus reciting the shema. Every day Martha prayed over the food she was preparing. In almost everything they did, they sought the blessing of God. They were good people.
I was not a good person.
It was true that I had been forced into a loveless marriage. But, much as I wanted to, I couldn’t blame Aaron for pushing me into Marcus’ arms. I chose to become Marcus’ lover. And I had loved him. I had loved him, and I had made him do a terrible thing.
And God had punished me by taking my baby.
I could tell all this to only one person, and so I spoke to my brother. He was deeply compassionate, because that was his nature. Lazarus would never judge me, but he urged me to reconcile myself to God.
Part of me wanted to do this. Part of me wanted to become the old Mary, with her unquestioning faith in the goodness of the Lord. But too much bitter hurt lay between that girl and me. I couldn’t go back to synagogue, as my brother wished. I just didn’t know what I believed anymore.
It might seem odd that I would speak to my brother and not my sister, but I didn’t want to upset her with my troubles. She had enough to worry about with Lazarus’ illness. I didn’t want to add to her burden.
Until I returned to Bethany, I didn’t know that my brother had a sickness in his brain. The headaches had begun around the time of his Bar Mitzvah and had tormented him ever since. They were so agonizing that he couldn’t do anything but lie in bed and wait for them to go away. Sometimes two came in a week; sometimes he would go for months without one. He had told me once that his greatest fear was that one day the headache would not go away and he would go mad from the pain.
This was why he had never married. He didn’t want people to know of his illness because he was afraid they’d say he was possessed by a devil; nor did he wish to burden a woman with a husband who might become permanently incapacitated.
Of course, no one in the village could understand why my handsome, financially comfortable brother was still unwed. An unmarried man of twenty-two was almost unheard of among Jews—except for the Essenes, of course, and everyone knew they were strange.
Lazarus’ illness was also the reason why Martha hadn’t married. She was a pretty girl, small and bright-eyed, with two deep dimples in her cheeks. Lazarus had received offers for her, but she refused to leave him. The two of them were inseparable, and I was grateful for their great kindness to me.
I remained in Bethany for almost a year. After I was able to think clearly enough to focus on my future, I wrote to Julia. She wrote back, telling me first that Marcus had gone back to Rome. This news made me feel safer. The greater distance between us put him at a greater emotional distance as well. I could picture him in Sepphoris, but I couldn’t picture him in Rome.
Julia also gave me encouragement and sound advice. She had once been in my situation, and she had built her own house and lived in it by herself. Couldn’t I do the same?
I knew exactly where I wanted my house to be: on the Sea of Galilee. I had always loved the lake, and it would make me happy to wake every morning to the sight of the sun coming up over those clear blue waters.
Martha and Lazarus tried to persuade me to stay with them. The very idea of me, a single woman living by myself, horrified them. But I was adamant. I wanted to be alone. I wanted my own house where I could have my own things and do as I pleased. Men had ruled my life for too long. I wanted to be free.
Winter was coming when I journeyed to Galilee in search of a house. Martha and Lazarus accompanied me, as did a builder I hired from Jerusalem. I wanted his opinion before I made a purchase. I could tell he thought I was mad, but he came highly recommended, which was all I cared about.
I didn’t want to go back to Magdala, and Herod Antipas’ new city of Tiberias was too much like Sepphoris, so we looked first in Gennesaret, but I couldn’t find anything that suited me. I didn’t want to live in a Roman city, but neither did I want to live in a small village. I was growing discouraged by the time we reached Capernaum, but it turned out to be just what I had in mind.
Capernaum was the most important town on the lake, a regular stop on the great caravan route that ran from Egypt to Damascus. The busy traffic made it a center of news, business, and commerce. A Roman garrison was posted there, but it was not at all like Sepphoris. It was a sophisticated Jewish town, and I liked it immediately.
As with most of the lake towns, fishing was Capernaum’s chief commercial occupation, but just outside the city lay great fertile fields of wheat and olive groves and vineyards. There were certainly houses for sale but not on the lake. My frustration was rising again when a local man came to our inn and told me about a lake property he had heard was for sale. The house itself was nothing, he said, just a tiny mud brick dwelling, but the land was big enough to accommodate something much larger. The elderly woman who lived there had just died, and her sons, who were farmers, wanted to sell the property.
Lazarus, Martha, and I went immediately to see the scribe who was representing t
he family. When he learned I was the would-be purchaser, he looked at the plain wool tunic, robe, and veil I was wearing and shook his head regretfully. “I am sorry, madam, but the owners are asking far more than any individual can pay. Someone from the fishing industry will be sure to buy it; in fact I have had several inquiries already. The family wanted to sell the land for years, but their mother refused to give it up. They’re looking to make a small fortune on it now, and they will get it. Property on the lake is like gold in your hand.”
“How much do they want?” I asked.
He looked at Lazarus who looked placidly back and said nothing.
The scribe wearily quoted me a price.
“I’ll pay it,” I said calmly. “I can draw the money from my bank immediately, and the family will have it by the end of the week.”
The scribe looked back at my brother, clearly wondering if I was delusional.
Lazarus said, “My sister is a very rich woman.”
At these words, a canny look came into the scribe’s close-set eyes. “Well then, of course I will present your offer to my clients. They may surprise me, however, and ask for even more.”
“Whatever your clients are paying you to represent them, I will double it—if I get the property,” I said crisply. I had learned more than I realized from Julia over the years.
The canniness was replaced by the gleam of greed. “Certainly, my lady. I’m sure I can convince them to take your offer. It will be in their best interest, after all.”
“Yes, it will,” I said, noticing that I had gone from madam to my lady once he had learned the depth of my purse.
We went to look at the property, which was unkempt but beautiful. I would knock the house down, of course, and build my own.
Suddenly I was excited. I pictured a house and a large garden. I knew exactly what I wanted. I walked around the property, showing the builder what I envisioned here and there, and he agreed it would be suitable.
I stole away for a moment and stood alone on the rocky beach gazing out across the lake at the hills on the other side, suddenly aware I was looking forward to the future. My life wasn’t over. I would begin a new life here on this beautiful lake where as a girl I had once been so happy.
Part 3
Jesus of Nazareth
Chapter Eighteen
The architectural style I chose for my house combined the Jewish sense of closed family space with the openness I loved about Julia’s house. While the house was being built, I made monthly visits to watch its progress. The workers didn’t quite know how to deal with me. They hadn’t known many women employers. It was an awkward situation for them, and I did my best to be pleasant and encouraging and hoped they would say nice things about me to their wives.
When it was finished, the house was perfect. I hadn’t been able to include an open roof like the one in Julia’s house—it was colder and rainier around the lake than it was in Sepphoris—but I hired an artist from Jerusalem to paint pictures of the lake and the countryside on the walls of a large atrium-style room, and the effect was lovely. I had the traditional Jewish courtyard, with the kitchen and storage rooms. And I planned to plant a garden on the land that ran down to the lake behind the house.
The one thing I didn’t have yet was a library. Aaron had no book collection for me to inherit, so I decided I’d create one of my own. Julia had given me the name of a seller in Rome, so I put together a list of the works I liked the most and sent it off to him. The room with its cabinets was ready and waiting, and I expected my shipment shortly.
The thought of having my very own books made my heart glow with joy.
I made the move to Capernaum two weeks after Passover. I had always thought spring was the most beautiful season in Galilee, and this year was even more spectacular than I remembered. The hills were blanketed with brilliant flowers, and the shining lake water reflected back the blue of the sky.
The week after I moved in I held a party in the courtyard for the workers and their families. Word had gotten around town about me, so everyone knew I had lived in Sepphoris, and I was fearful they might not come. I took great care to assure the men that all the food would come from a ritually clean Jewish kitchen.
They came, and the party was a success. The men were proud of their work and anxious to show it off to their families. Many of them brought friends. I made certain to speak to everyone, including the children, and by the time the courtyard had emptied, I was exhausted but happy.
I had hired Elisabeth and Jeremiah from Sepphoris to be my live-in servants. They had accepted my offer immediately. I was happy to know that I would have such kind people living in my house in this city I hoped to call my home.
I had always known my position in Capernaum would be uncertain, but every day that passed made it clearer that I was an outsider. The successful party wasn’t a portent of things to come. I received no invitations. When I walked through the marketplace, dressed like an ordinary housewife in a plain linen tunic and a simple veil, people avoided me. I felt as if the words Sinner from Sepphoris were painted on my forehead.
I was feeling lonely and discouraged, afraid that I had made a grave mistake in coming here, when by chance I encountered my cousin Ruth in the marketplace. We met in front of one of the fruit stalls and stared at each other in amazement.
“Mary?”
“Ruth?”
We laughed and hugged, looked at each other, and laughed and hugged some more.
“Don’t tell me you’re the rich lady from Sepphoris everyone is talking about?”
I managed a rueful smile. “I’m afraid I am.”
“It never crossed my mind it could be you. Why haven’t you come to see me?”
I laughed. “How would I know you were living in Capernaum?” She smiled. “True. But I’m so glad to see you!” She shook her head. “You look more beautiful than ever, you wretch.”
“Oh Ruth, how I would love to talk to you. Do you think you might be able to come visit me?”
“Of course I’ll come visit you! I can’t wait to see this house everyone is talking about. How about tomorrow?”
I smiled with my whole heart. “Tomorrow would be fine.”
Seeing Ruth was like touching real earth again. She looked older, but she was still Ruth, and it didn’t take long for us to feel as if we’d been parted for months instead of years.
The first thing I did was show her around the house. She was almost as amazed as I was when first I went to Julia’s.
“It’s so big,” she said.
“Not as big as the house in Magdala.”
“Yes, but the house in Magdala housed two large families. As far as I can see, this house is only for one person—you!”
One of the things I always liked about Ruth was that she spoke her mind. “It may be a bit extravagant,” I admitted, “but I got used to a large house when I lived in Sepphoris.”
“My house looks like a hovel in comparison.”
“I don’t believe that.”
She grinned. “Well, maybe not. But I have a husband and four children.”
“Do I know the man you married?”
“I don’t think so. His name is Nathaniel bar Simon, and he comes from one of the villages outside Capernaum. He owns some large olive groves, so we do well enough.”
The courtyard where we sat lay between the side of my house and the fence that separated my property from my neighbor’s. The day was fine, and the breeze off the lake delightful. Elisabeth had provided us with wine and a tray of fruit and bread. We ate and drank as we talked comfortably.
“So,” I said, “what do the people in town think I’ve done, to make them treat me like some kind of pariah?”
She sighed. “The word is that you led a wicked life in Sepphoris.”
“That’s all?” I asked cautiously. If they knew about Marcus, I would never be accepted.
“That’s enough, don’t you think?”
“But Ruth, if these people don’t know anything
about me, why should they think I’m a sinner?”
She waved her hand. “For one thing . . . well, just look at yourself, Mary. You might be one of those pagan goddesses. You certainly don’t look like any of the wives in this town!”
I looked down at my perfectly correct clothing. “What do you mean? I was very careful to buy clothes that would be appropriate for a Jewish woman of my age.” I gave her an injured stare. “My clothes aren’t any different from yours, Ruth.”
Ruth tilted her head. “It’s the way you hold yourself. That authoritative air you have.”
I had been as mild as a lamb in all my dealings with the people here. I said, “It’s because I lived in Sepphoris, isn’t it?”
“That too, of course,” she replied.
I looked at my hands. “I didn’t ask to live in Sepphoris, Ruth. I went against my will.”
Ruth covered my hands with hers. “I know, dearest. I saw your face when they married you to that old man. I was so sorry for you, Mary. So very sorry.”
My throat closed down. I nodded, unable to speak.
Ruth changed the subject. “Did you know that Lord Benjamin is dead?”
I nodded. “Yes. I heard from my brother.”
“And Samuel has eight daughters. Can you imagine?”
I stared in amazement. “Eight girls? And no son?”
“Not a one.”
“Poor Naomi,” I said. The woman was always held accountable for the sex of her child.
“How about you?” Ruth asked gently. “No children from that old man?”
I froze. After a long minute, I managed to shake my head.
“Three wives and no children. It’s clear whose fault that was.”
I picked up my cup and took a long swallow of wine.
