Though we retired almost at dawn, we only slept a few hours. Lying beside Joseph, I looked at him. He was returning the look. Love in his eyes glowed like the sun at mid day. “Good morning, my beloved wife.” He leaned down and lightly kissed me.
“Oh, it"s late! Some kind of wife I am, lying abed like this.” I tried to rise, but Joseph held me back.
“Stay.” He slipped his arms around me as I snuggled close. “Let me hold you just for a moment. There"s no rush in getting up. We have all day with nothing to do except enjoy each other.” He pulled me close. His voice was so low and filled with emotion, I could barely hear him. “Oh, Mary. I love you so very much. Please don"t ever leave me.”
“I shall never leave you, Joseph. Like Ruth said a long time ago, „whither thou goest, I shall go, and where thou lodgest, I shall lodge."” I looked into his eyes that were so close to mine. “Joseph, it won"t be too long and we can truly be husband and wife.” I brushed his hair back and patted his mustache smooth.
He held me so he could look into my eyes. “Mary, we are truly man and wife, now. After our Son is born is time enough for us to become intimate.”
My heart sang. He said, “after OUR son is born.” He emphasized our. My heart was so full, I could barely breathe as tears dripped from my eyes.
“Oh, Joseph.” I clung to him as I had dreamed of doing for such a long time.
He wiped my tears, kissed me, then arose. “Stay there for a while longer,” he ordered, with a smile. “I"ll be right back.”
He left our bedroom and soon returned with a cup of yellow fruit juice. “I purchased an orange from a man who was leading a caravan a few days ago. I squeezed it special for you.”
I sat up in bed, took the cup and sipped. “How heavenly this tastes. You must have half, Joseph.” I placed the cup against his lips and he sipped. When he leaned over to kiss me again, I smelled the sharp, pungent odor on his breath. “Here, take the cup.” I offered.
He took it and placed it on a table beside the bed. As he did, I arose, straightened my clothing and started to place my hair on top of my head. “Not today. At least not for a little while.” He ran his fingers through my hair.
As he released the tresses, they fell against my back like drops from a waterfall settles on wayside bushes.
I buried my face in his chest. “I do love you, Joseph.”
He hit my bottom. “Enough, woman. Get me some food.”
I carried the remainder of the precious orange juice as we walked into our other room. As Joseph watched, I placed bread and cheese on a dish. Next to it, I poured milk from a sheepskin into small earthen chalices. Figs were added and we had a breakfast feast.
During our meal, we drank every drop of orange juice from the container. I thought orange juice was what I would long remember about our first breakfast together as man and wife.
He said prayers and we chatted as we ate.
That day was the most relaxed I could remember. We walked into the hills and talked. Though we had climbed these rocks many times together, today felt so very special. We were man and wife for as long as we lived.
I lay down on a rock and placed my head in Joseph"s lap. He ran his fingers through my hair softly scrubbing my hair, as I gazed at the sky. A fleecy cloud slowly floated by, its shape changing from a tree to a bush, then breaking into bits and finally dissipating as I watched.
I reached up and fingered Joseph"s beard. I wondered what it would look like when we were both old.
Suddenly, I shivered. Somehow, I couldn"t picture Joseph"s hair or beard turning grey.
I sat up and we perched on a rock overlooking our town, with roads caravans often moved on. Fields and groves were spread out before us. He held my hand as we talked.
“Mary, God had the entire universe to pick two people to raise His child.” He said in a dreamy voice. “I wonder why He chose us.”
Looking up at him, seeing his strong chin and handsome face, I replied. “I don"t know, Joseph. It really frightens me sometimes to know you and I have the entire responsibility for God"s Son.”
“When Gabriel visited you, did he tell you how this baby should be raised?” The wind blew, scattering my hair about. He pushed a tendril of hair from my face, leaned over and kissed me.
“No.” I glanced at him, then at the blue sky which encircled the earth. More wispy clouds drifted across the enormous expanse. I knew God listened and, being human, wondered if He knew just how fragile we felt.
“I"ve prayed about this Mary, and I"ll continue to pray. However, I don"t know how to rear God"s Child, or any child for that matter.” He raised his hand and swept the heavens. “He rules all this and we"re just two little people with no experience.”
“Oh, Joseph,” My voice held uncertainty. “I"ve prayed too, and I can"t come up with any answers. I suppose we"ll just have to let God lead us as we go. We"ll try to let Him have complete control of our lives. We"ll follow His will as much as it is humanly possible.”
I reached up to smooth the lines that were in Joseph"s brow.
He picked up a dried weed. It crackled as he squeezed his hand closed. “Another thing bothers me, Mary.”
I looked up at him and smiled. “Just one?”
He pulled a tress of my hair and grinned at me. “How is the baby going to be born in Bethlehem if we live in Nazareth?”
I stared at him in astonishment. “Joseph, I had forgotten Micah"s prophecy.”
“Now don"t you worry, Mary. I"m sure God has a plan.”
“He must.”
We stared down the hills at the terraces where men would soon harvest their crops. I saw a man strip an ear of corn from a stalk, open it, then check its growth. We saw others bend, stoop, then stand upright, as they checked their crops, as well.
“Look, Mary.” Joseph pointed. “You can see the Sea of Galilee today.”
I stood. At that moment, large white sails caught the wind and billowed above the tiny fisherman"s boat. “How beautiful! My day"s complete.” I sat down and Joseph took my hand, his face solemn.
He asked. “What will we do when we have other children? Will they be different from Jesus? Will I treat this Baby any differently from our other children?” The questions were the same ones I had asked myself many times.
“I don"t know, Joseph. I think we must wait to see what kind of child He is. It bothers me to think He may know who He is when He"s born. He might not need us when He scrapes a knee. What if He isn"t like other babies?
What if He already knows everything there is to know?” My voice got louder and louder.
“Shhh.” Joseph placed his finger over my lips. “It will be all right. I"m sure, since God wanted the baby to be born in the normal way, this One will be just like other babies. I think we"ll have to feed him and teach him to feed himself. We"ll have to teach Him to walk and talk.” His voice was strong and positive. “I"ll do my best to bring him up in the Jewish faith; to follow the teachings God handed Moses on the Mountain.”
“Do you think He will know He came from God?” I was suddenly terribly frightened. I grabbed Joseph"s hand and clung to it. “What if He...”
“Mary.” Joseph"s voice was firm. “Stop, honey. There is no use in trying to determine what kind of child He will be. We won"t be able to do it for our others, either. We"ll take Him as He is; love Him, care for Him. I will teach Him my trade. We will rear Him as though He were just another son of ours. No more. No less.”
“You"re right.” I looked in his eyes. “Joseph, you know I get carried away sometimes...”
He laughed, and kissed the palm of my hand. “I know.”
“You"ll just have to settle me down. Promise?”
“I promise.” He said. “Come woman, you are starving me. Let"s go home and eat.” He pulled me to my feet.
“We have to be sure you eat properly now.” He patted my stomach as we stood side-by-side. “You"re carrying a very important person inside you. Our Son.”
We walked down from the hills, Joseph not letting me run and jump as happened formerly.
From then on, each morning I went to the well to get water, Joseph shaved and said his prayers. It only took a few moments to prepare our morning meal; bread or cake, fruit and milk. Occasionally I added a boiled egg. We ate in silence; then he went to join his father at the carpentry shop.
I cleaned our home, then usually walked to Mother"s where we ground wheat and made bread. One day, as we worked, she told me she received a letter from Elizabeth. In fact it lay in her lap, as we sat grinding wheat kernels.
“Elizabeth had her baby.” Mother smiled happily at me. “Her letter sounds as though she is the happiest woman in the world.” A few kernels thudded into the grinder as I turned the handle.
“Oh, Mother, that"s wonderful. Are she and the baby all right?” Mother fed more grain into the mill. Wheat kernels were crushed and flour poured into a bowl beneath the grinder.
“They"re fine, but the strangest thing happened, Mary.” My Mother said, her hands resting in the pan of seed.
“When they took the baby to have him circumcised, people naturally assumed he would be named for a dead member of the family.”
“And..?” I asked as she hesitated.
“„His name is John." Elizabeth said.”
“During my visit she told me his name was to be John and I didn"t question her.” I remarked.
“The people continued to bother her because it"s the custom to name a son after a dead relative,” Mother said.
“Zacharias then took a piece of slate and wrote, „His name is John." Elizabeth said the Holy Spirit immediately filled Zacharias and he began prophesying.”
“Zacharias spoke?” My astonishment was so great, I stopped moving my hands on the grinding stone.
“He picked up his son and began prophesying.” Mother nodded, then leaned back to rest. She suggested, “Let"s stop this for a moment, Mary. I"ll read Elizabeth"s letter to you.” She picked up the letter and began where Elizabeth told about Zacharias.
“Zacharias Blessed the Lord for the redemption for His people. He thanked God for sending salvation from enemies and fulfilling his promise to Abraham to send a savior.”
“That"s amazing.” I shook my head in unbelief. “The last time I saw that dear man he couldn"t speak.”
“There"s more,” Mother said, further unrolling the scroll.
“Zacharias said John was the prophet of the Most High. He said he was to be the one who would go before the Lord and prepare His way.” Mother stopped for a moment as we both thought on these miraculous events.
Then she finished. “Zacharias said John would give people knowledge of salvation before the Sunrise from on high should come in His Glory. This Being would shine on those in Darkness and the shadow of Death and He was to guide our feet into the way of peace.”
Mother made the papyrus into a cone, holding it tenderly.
“I wonder what it means.”
I sat back from the stone and looked at her. “When I was there Elizabeth told me Zacharias wrote that John was to be the prophet for my Son.” My voice was tremulous.
The letter Mother read made me more aware of the responsibility I carried. “Oh, Mother, I"m so frightened.” I leaned toward her as she put her arms around me. She drew me close and kissed my hair.
“Mary, please don"t be afraid. God will take care of you. He will see that you raise His child as He should be.”
She lifted my face and kissed me. “My darling girl, don"t ever for a moment doubt yourself. If God hadn"t thought you were the person to raise His Child, He would not have chosen you.”
“I know. But ...”
“Shhhh,” she soothed me as she had when I was a child. “Everything is going to be all right. You"ll see.” She laughed, a shaky laugh at best. “Come, we"ll never finish this in time to bake, if we don"t get back to work.”
That afternoon I told Joseph of my visit with Mother. We both prayed we would be worthy of the task God gave us.
Many days I prepared something for Joseph"s midday meal and carried it to him at the shop. I loved going there.
The odor of freshly cut lumber was clean and aromatic from the different woods. The tools were so fascinating, I talked Joseph into telling me what each one was and the job they did.
“I use the axe for chopping down trees.”
I laughed. “Even I knew that.”
He grinned back at me. “Father and I shape the wood with the adz.” He picked up an iron saw. “And this is so we can cut it to precise sizes.”
“How very smart you are.”
He showed me drills and bits that made the precise holes needed in wood.
I started to pick up the stone headed hammer for driving nails and almost dropped it on my foot.
“Mary!” Joseph exclaimed, taking it from my hand. “Be careful! I don"t want you hurt.”He placed it back on his work table.
“Joseph, there are so many tools.” I said, on another visit. “Where did they all come from?”
“Most of the collection has been in this shop for many generations. My great-grandfather owned the wooden mallet for pounding or hammering wooden surfaces together. He also purchased the iron chisels and files for shaping and carving. The awls are used for putting small holes into wood or leather. They belonged to my grandfather.”
Joseph then picked up a plane and showed me how he used it to make the wood smooth. After placing it back in its holder, he said, “As my ancestors taught their sons the carpentry trade, so I shall teach our sons.”
“Oh, Joseph, you are a good man.” I reached up and patted him on the face. “You will make a very good father.”
One day as I entered, he hurriedly shoved something into a corner. “What are you working on?” I asked.
“A surprise.” The grin that appeared on his face was so broad, I knew it was something special.
“Can I see it?” I teased him by running my hand under his beard and kissing him on the chin.
“Stop that, Mary.” He scolded. “You"re an old married woman now. You shouldn"t tease your husband.” His voice was stern, but he grinned, which convinced me he loved the teasing.
“Come on,” I pleaded. “Show me.”
“All right,” he said, giving a big sigh. “Close your eyes.”
I squeezed my eyes shut and heard movement. Then he said, “Now open.”
As I opened my eyes, I saw a cradle he was working on. I caught my breath. “Oh, Joseph, it"s beautiful!” I patted it as though it contained a baby as he smiled down at me.
“It isn"t finished,” he grumbled good naturedly. “I wanted to save it for a surprise.”
I hugged him. “Oh, Joseph, it is a surprise. What a wonderful man you are. No wonder I chose you for a husband.”
“Go home, woman. I have work to do,” he ordered as he kissed me on the brow. “I"ll be home a little late. I"d like to finish this. And Mary...”
I turned to walk away. “Yes?”
“Please go home and lie down. You must have your rest.” His eyes and words conveyed so much concern and love. I felt I must be the happiest woman in the world.
“I promise.”
Since our home was near his parent"s, we saw them most evenings after Joseph and his father returned from work. They were as much a part of our family as my father, mother, Leah and Daniel.
Sometimes we ate at home; other times, we ate at his parents. Joseph and I visited Sarah and her husband as well. They came often and we spent precious time talking of the Baby we were awaiting. Sarah suspected she was in the family way and, I think, happy about it.
She promised, when I told her about my being pregnant with God"s child she would tell no one. I knew she never would.
At the beginning of my fifth month, my pregnancy could no longer be hidden. Joseph and I had been wed less than two months. I suspected that when I went to the well in the mornings people talked. Too many times when I appeared, talk abruptly ceased. Sarah tried to protect me from the gossip, but I knew it was inevitable.
I was so proud of this Baby I wanted to shout it to the Heavens. It still hurt, however, to know there was gossip.
I wanted this baby to be loved and cared for as we loved and cared for all the children of the village...no matter who their parents were. I could do nothing about the gossip except pray that God would give me strength to either ignore it or bear the pain of disgrace.
During this time, Joseph was especially thoughtful and kind.
The day was grey, making my whole world feel flat. Dusky clouds hovered over our village. Homes that normally sparkled in the sun now looked drab and forlorn. Limbs of trees drooped as rain dribbled and water slid from leaves onto the earth.
I"d been inside almost the entire day, other than going to help Mother bake bread.
She and I were chatting merrily, waiting for the bread to brown when my heart was broken by one of our neighbors. I still don"t know why I said nothing when the neighbor spoke so hatefully to me.
Instead, I ran home, leaving bread, Mother and my pride.
When Joseph returned from work I was lying in bed instead of bustling about outside as I normally did, even in inclement weather.
“Mary, what"s wrong?” He gathered me into his arms. “Don"t you feel well?”
“Oh, Joseph,” I said, burying my face in his neck. “Today we were baking bread and one of the women said horrible things about me.”
“What horrible things?” He held me close. When I said nothing, only clung to him, he coaxed. “Please honey, tell me.”
“She said I was no better than a whore to have intimate relations with you before we were married. She said I was a slut and should be stoned.” I ran my words together. “I was so frightened I ran home and didn"t even bring any bread for our meal.”
I looked up at him, tears dribbling down my face. My horror was mirrored in his eyes and he held me tighter.
“It"s all right, my love. We can handle this. We must. This is part of the job God gave us.”
He patted me on the back as though I were a baby. “We must learn to ignore people like her. God"s Child is much more important than any malicious gossiping woman.”
It wasn"t easy to face the rest of the village after the way the woman treated me. Statements she almost shouted were loud enough for the entire village to hear.
The next day I held my head high as I went to the well for water. No one said anything in my hearing. I met Mother, Sarah and her mother in order to bake bread with the rest of our group. The first few days, some of the women looked at me with half closed eyes, judging my reaction. By ignoring the comments and looks, laughter and gossip became as relaxed and happy as before.
I was getting bigger all the time and it was becoming more difficult to get around, so Joseph and I enjoyed our evenings without the families. We usually sat outside for our evening meal.
The sun was low in the sky and shadows from the pomegranate tree near our door covered the table. Birds chattered as they flitted from branch to branch. Occasionally, one hopped to the ground, picked up a seed and flew rapidly to a limb.
Scent from various herbs and flowers drifted on the soft air. As I looked around our courtyard, my happiness was complete. I said a prayer of thanksgiving for the many blessings I had received.
I was blessed with a thoughtful, loving husband, a snug home and plenty of food. The Baby, soon to be born, was an added blessing.
The bread was still warm as I served stew into bowls after Joseph asked a blessing. I broke a piece of bread from the loaf, crumbling it into the stew. During this time of waiting for the baby, Joseph and I had often discussed the men who rebelled against the Herods.
“Joseph, last Sabbath, when we were at the synagogue, the Rabbi told us about the new taxes and people having to register for the census at their birth places.” I scooped a spoonful of stew into my mouth and chewed.
Joseph ate silently, glanced at me, then waited.
“This morning, some of the women at the well were talking about people in the hills planning a rebellion against having to register.” I sipped water and placed the goblet back on the table.
“I heard about that, too.” He chewed thoughtfully.
“Most folks were more angry at the registering than they were at the latest increase in taxes.” I broke a piece of bread and crumbled it into the stew. “Does that make sense?”
“I don"t know if it makes sense or not. I heard about the rebellion a few days ago. Seems Judas, whose father fought against Herod the Great, is now leading a rebellion against the present Herod.” Joseph spooned stew into his mouth.
“But what can a little band of people do against a leader like that?” I held my spoon over my stew, awaiting his answer.
“Actually, I think there is little they can do. It seems the first Judas joined with Zadok, a Pharisee.” As an aside, he said, “they"re part of a group consisting of the Sadducees and Essenes, as well.”
I nodded and chewed, thinking of what Joseph said. “Are those the people they call Zealots?”
He put down his spoon, took a sip of wine and said. “I think so. They were teachers of the Torah, as well as being very patriotic.”
“They were teachers?” I was astounded.
“Yes. They hated Roman rule and rebelled at every opportunity. They believed paying taxes to Rome was the same as slavery.”
“Everyone has to pay taxes.” I protested, as a bird lit on the table and swiped a crumb of bread before I could scoot him away. We both laughed, as he flew to a limb and fussed at me.
“To answer your question, honey. These zealots refused to pay taxes.” Joseph remarked and resumed eating.
“What happened after that?” I was fascinated, and forgot we were eating.
“Eat, Mary.”
I picked up my spoon as he continued speaking. “They believed God was on their side and would give them victory. They hid out in caves in the eastern mountains. When wealthy Jewish collaborators, officials and small detachments of soldiers came along, Judas and his band attacked.”
“How awful!” My food was gone. I placed the spoon in the bowl, wrapped the bread in a cloth and asked,
“What happened to Zadok and Judas?”
“After a time, they were both killed.” Joseph said, as he took the last bite of his chicken stew and placed his spoon in the bowl.
“Had enough?”
He patted his stomach. “Oh yes. A very good meal.”
“If Zadok and Judas were killed, why are their people still fighting?”
Joseph leaned against the tree and spoke. “Apparently, their sons didn"t learn anything. They are now following in their fathers" footsteps.” He picked up his cup and drained his wine.
“And all because of taxes,” I stated, then rose to clean the table. When I returned, I brought an extra cup, poured a small amount of wine for me and then refilled Joseph"s cup.
He leaned back, holding the cup loosely. Taking up the subject where we left it, he said. “Not all because of taxes, Mary. You have to understand the rebels" thinking. They feel signing for the census is a snare. Once the Romans have a name, that person is always liable for taxes. These taxes are raised whenever the Romans wish.”
I reached across the table and held his hand. Just then the Baby kicked. I must have winced. Joseph smiled.
“Giving you a hard time?”
I laughed. “Sometimes He really does, but this isn"t bad.” I glanced at Joseph. The look of wonder and awe in his eyes was very dear to me.
The baby settled and we resumed our conversation as I picked up my cup and sipped.
“Joseph, will you have to register?” I stared at him in apprehension.
“I don"t know.” He took a deep breath and looked around at our home, the vegetables and flowers I"d planted, the birds skittering in and out of the branches of the tree that was here long before either of us was born.
We sat quietly for a few moments enjoying the scents of mingled food and wine, as well as roses, now in bloom. Sounds from other families were muted. Suddenly, a cricket chirruped, disturbing the tranquility. Joseph and I both laughed.
Joseph broke our silence. “Today at the shop, men said that Roman Soldiers are on their way to Nazareth.”
“Why would they come here? We have so little in the village.” I just didn"t understand why a peaceful little place like ours should warrant soldiers. “As a matter of fact, your shop has less work lately than in a long time, doesn"t it?” I held my cup between both hands, sipping occasionally.
“The work has been slow.” Joseph agreed, and picked up his cup and drank. “Father"s hoping it will pick up soon. If not, I don"t know what we"ll do.”
I reached over and held his hand a moment, trying to take his mind from the recent lack of work.
“Do you think the soldiers are coming to make sure that everyone registers?”
“I don"t know.” He sighed. “Probably.”
We sat chatting for awhile until I yawned. Joseph and I entered our home as the night swiftly dropped its curtain.
Soon after our conversation concerning registration, when I was nearing my eighth month, I was outside, preparing our meal.
I looked up at the overcast sky, hoping we"d finish our meal before the rains came. Glancing up, I saw Joseph hurrying home from work, much too early. The look on his face frightened me and I flung myself into his arms.
“What"s happened, Joseph? Are our families all right?”
“They"re fine, Mary,” he said, and disentangled my arms from around his neck. He pushed the hair from my forehead and kissed me. “I must talk with you.”
He washed his face and hands in the container I kept inside the door. He then dried them on one of our new linen cloths. I brought him cool water and we sat outside. The stools with backs on them made sitting at the table very comfortable.
The sky seemed to have brightened, I noticed. Maybe the wind would blow most of the clouds away, though we could always use the rain.
“Do you remember we recently talked about having to be counted?” He sipped his water.
“Yes.” I trembled as I remembered our conversation.
“The Rabbi and some of the men were talking about it today when they stopped by the shop. In our conversation, they reminded me that counting Jews is against our Law.”
“It is?”
“Yes.” Then Joseph asked a rhetorical question. “How can we go against Roman law and not register?”
“I don"t know. Will our people be arrested if they don"t?”
“I don"t see that we can do a lot to protest. The Romans know we have no choice in the matter, so the guilt will be added to the rest of their sins, I"m sure.” He said, then sipped from his water container.
I could say nothing, wondering what we should do.
Thunder sounded so far away I knew it wouldn"t rain for awhile. Just to be perverse, a few drops of rain immediately fell, hitting leaves on the tree. The water dripped onto my head, reminding me to check on the food.
I quickly stirred the lamb. It was cooked enough, so I removed the pot from the brazier and placed a top on the container. Then I sat back at the table, hoping the heavy rain would hold off for just a while longer.
“I saw Roman soldiers arriving today. They posted edicts to the affect that we would register.” Joseph"s voice held a dead quality.
“I still don"t understand their need to count us.” I rose. As I stood straight, my hand went to my back. A pained expression must have crossed my face, because Joseph quickly asked. “Are you all right?”
I smiled at his concern. “I"m fine. My middle is getting so large it pulls at my back muscles sometimes.” I reached over and patted him on the shoulder. “I really am fine.”
“You"re sure?”
I nodded.
“Mary, to go back to your question. I guess they want to count us so they will know exactly how much to tax.”
“Joseph, they"ve done that before. You pay taxes. I know. I heard you men discussing it.”
“That"s true,