The next year, at Jesus" Bar Mitzvah, the entire village came to our home after ceremonies at the Temple. Even we had no idea how much our relatives and friends loved Him. Soon after all the festivities, laughter and happiness, Joseph and I discovered jealously in our family.
As we walked from the synagogue that day, surrounded by friends and family, I was incredibly happy.
The day was bright and sunny. Light feathery clouds skittered across the sky obscuring the sun, then uncovering it rapidly. The mountains protectively watched our town.
In an earlier time, boulders on the mountains had been flung about, bouncing, finally settling, leaving caves and hollows for man and animals in bad weather.
Today, as I looked up, I noticed the dark brown trunks of cedar trees clinging to the sides of hills. Sprigs of feathery green leaves played amongst the darker green of older leaves. Lacy flowers of various colors swayed atop green grass, covering some of the doors to the caves.
“What a glorious day!” I thought as I joined the others in singing our psalms.
Our family was now so large the adults all walked sedately, as nearly together as possible. The children straggled along, playing, laughing and talking. All except James. After the festivities that day, Joseph and I attempted to talk with our son, but he refused to discuss it. We simply did not know what else to do.
Joseph told me somewhat earlier he was concerned about how quiet James had become. “It started around the time we made plans for Jesus" Bar Mitzvah.”
I thought about his statement for a moment. “He couldn"t possibly be jealous, could he, Joseph?”
“It could be, I suppose. Sometimes he looks at Jesus and the expression is almost one of hatred.”
“Hatred?” I was horrified.
“Maybe that"s not the word I"m looking for,” Joseph said. “I"m just not sure what his problem is.”
Through the years James never stopped his darting from here to there. Joseph had trouble keeping James" mind on one job long enough to complete whatever he was making in the shop. Mid-way through repairing a plow, he"d dart from the shop, going no one knew where.
A few days after Joseph and I talked, I visited them at work. That was the day Joseph"s patience ran short. I still enjoyed the scents of the different woods and gloried in watching a tree become a cradle, a bed, a table or chair.
As I entered, James was working on a plow. He"d grown into a sturdy ten year old. He still moved too rapidly to let a pound stay on his body. His hair was dark and of rather a course texture. But his eyes. When he was happy, they were the most expressive, beautiful dark brown eyes ever seen. He could make you cry or laugh or smile, with one look.
Today, those eyes glared at me as I came through the door. “Hello, James.” I stooped and kissed his brow. He jerked away and went back to repairing the plow.
Joseph raised his head to look at James with a puzzled expression. Suddenly, James put down his hammer and walked from the shop.
Joseph spoke in a firm, loving voice. “James, you come back here!” He laid down the saw he was using.
James slunk back, stopped and leaned against the door. “Yes?” His voice was belligerent.
I looked from Joseph to James, not believing the recent difference in our son"s attitude.
“Tell me son, exactly what your problem is.” His voice was emphatic as Joseph moved closer to James, looking directly into his face.
“I don"t have a problem,” James said, running his sandal across the floor in front of him, then back again.
“Something is bothering you, son.” Joseph ignored the belligerence in James" tone of voice. “You know you can talk to me about anything.” He waited a few seconds and when James said nothing, Joseph asked. “Now, why don"t you tell me?”
“You really want to know?” He stared at Joseph as though he were an enemy. There was so much anger in that voice I wanted to spank James myself.
When he answered, Joseph"s voice was calm and caring. “Yes, son, I really want to know.”
“It"s that Son of yours.” James yelled. “He"s so high and mighty. He gets everything He wants. His Bar Mitzvah was so grand, we"ll never be able to afford one like it for the rest of us.” It appeared once he got started, he couldn"t stop. “He thinks he knows everything there is to know in this world. He orders all of us around like he"s our parent.”
I thought for a moment he was finished, then he raised his head and looked directly at his Father. His voice was very low, and full of venom. “Sometimes, I think I hate Him.”
Joseph took one step. James must have thought he might get hit, because he ducked. Instead, Joseph gathered him into his arms. When he did, James began to cry. “Oh, Father, I"m sorry.”
Joseph held his ten year old body close to him. “James, it"s all right. Son, I love you with all my heart.” He held him tightly. Only he and I knew that James really was his first born.
When the sobs turned into sniffles, Joseph removed his arms from around James and led him to a bench.
“Come, sit down. Let me tell you a story. All right?”
James nodded and followed his Father. “James, when you were born we were so very happy. Jesus was three years old and we thought we might never have any more children. Then you came. You were very precious to us. You were sunny and cheerful, always running here and there. You were like a bright star that flashes across the sky.”
James looked at his Father and gave him a teary smile.
“Jesus claimed you the minute He saw you. You were always His baby, He said. Maybe we did neglect you a little because Jesus took such good care of you. He really doesn"t have any more than the rest of you. Think about this, James. As you get older, your needs change.”
“They do?” James asked, looking into his father"s eyes.
“Yes.” Joseph said, and held his son"s hand. “When you start shaving and growing taller, you need more clothing, and other accessories I can"t even think of now. You will also need money when you find a girl you like. You"ll want to give her gifts.”
James shook his head. “I"m not going to get a girl.”
“You"ll change your mind.” Joseph smiled at him. “As to Jesus having a bigger Bar Mitzvah than the rest of you, if God is willing, you shall all have the very same type party after your Bar Mitzvah.”
He looked over at me. At times, Joseph and I communicated as much without words as with.
I nodded as Joseph continued. “Your Mother and I are putting a little money aside. We"ve saved it for your special days. It isn"t much, James. However, if God is with us there will be enough for all. We shall do our best for your Bar Mitzvah, your betrothals and your weddings.”
“I didn"t know.” James voice was quiet and his body was more at rest than I had ever seen.
“No one else knows. Just you.”
“Not even Jesus?” A faint smile lit his large brown expressive eyes as he looked up at his father.
“Not even Jesus.” Joseph said.
James kissed his Father, waved happily to me and darted from the shop. Joseph and I just looked at each other.
We were thankful another storm was passed.
“I hope that will be the end of it.” I said.
“It might not be, Mary.” Joseph said, picking up his saw. “As he gets older, we know Jesus will be different. He is already. All we can do is let the children know we care for each of them, just as they are.”
“You"re right, of course.” I walked to him, raised on my tip toes and kissed him. “I must get home and get our meal prepared.”
I waved at him and left the shop. I had no way of knowing the jealousy was not dead. It would resurface later, when I was less able to handle it.
• • •
The next year, as the heat of summer bore down on us, so did the insects. Lethargy gripped the entire city.One moved when that movement was essential. Sweat kept our bodies wet. With the sweating, more water was needed. Someone was either going to or coming from the well constantly.
Talking with other mothers, I discovered their children were as unhappy as ours. They quarreled, picked fights, stomped out of the house in anger. Our only answer was to keep them as busy as possible.
Now that our children were older, Sarah and I sometimes rose early to get water for our homes...pretending, I suppose, we were still 14 years old. Actually, it gave us a few moments to pretend we were childless. Since our days were so full, it also gave us an opportunity to visit with each other.
“I don"t think I"ve ever known the weather to be so hot,” Sarah complained, swiping damp hair off her forehead as we trudged toward the well. Over the years, she had changed little. Maybe a little rounder, and her hair contained a few strands of grey, but she was still the same Sarah I"d loved all my life.
The path looked much as it had all those years ago. Trees had grown and today, we both wished the leaves didn"t hang so still and lifeless. Bees moved so slowly around the drooping honeysuckle we felt they must be as lethargic as we. All other blossoms either sagged or dropped to the arid ground.
“These stones are so hot, if I didn"t have sandals, my feet would be one big blister,” Sarah complained.
I casually hit one of the shrubs. The dust lazily lifted, then settled more firmly. It was so thick the leaves were more grey than green.
I batted at an insect as it caromed around my face. “These insects are driving me crazy!” I complained loudly.
When we arrived at the well, Sarah plunged her jar into it, brought the container up, then abruptly poured almost half the contents onto her hair. She giggled like a little girl as water cascaded, wetting everything from hair to sandals.
I screamed with laughter. “Bet that felt good.”
“It sure did,” she grinned and flung the rest over me. That water felt better than any I could every remember.
At that moment, we heard other women nearing. “Guess we"d better be grownups again?” She straightened her robe, then bent to hit an insect on her ankle.
“Probably. I"m glad you did that.” We grinned at each other, filled our containers and went home. As we passed our friends they good-naturedly teased us about being children.
A few days later, one of the older people near our courtyard became sick with high temperatures. When I offered help, the lady was so wet she looked as though she"d just had a bath, yet her skin felt hot and damp.
Soon, she developed a cough. Within a few days, she was dead.
The village people thought it was just a normal occurrence.
Then, more people became sick and we realized we had an epidemic. The physicians had no idea what caused the illnesses. We all worked to help those who were sick. We changed clothing, as well as bed clothing. We kept the sick ones as cool and comfortable as possible. Nothing helped. We made soup and tried to get sick ones to eat. Prayers in the synagogue were continuous, but the weather continued to be breathlessly hot as insects took up permanent residence.
Physicians, as well as the rest of us were puzzled at the outbreak. Usually, when an epidemic hit, it was for a certain age limit. Now, the fevers hit every age group, from the oldest to the youngest. Some older persons who were not particularly healthy overcame the fevers while younger, stronger people died. Knowing the laws of God, and the cleanliness He ordered, we became even more conscious in the cleansing of our hands and bodies.
We ate only foods that were washed thoroughly. We did everything possible.
Nothing stopped the tide of illnesses.
Simon and Hanna woke up one morning so ill they were unable to get out of bed. Never have I prayed and worked as hard to save my children. After a week of sleepless nights, little rest and worry, their fevers broke.
They woke up hungry. I thanked God with all my heart then prepared soup, and went to bed.
Two weeks later, Joseph awoke one morning and was unable to arise. I sent two of the boys to the well to get extra water and began bathing Joseph. I sent for the physician, knowing he had nothing to give Joseph to keep his fever from climbing.
Joseph"s family came. My family came. The house had visitors around the clock...people wanting to help.
Children hovered near the door and barely left the house.
On the fourth day of Joseph"s illness, my family took the children to their home. While Joseph"s family cared for him, I sat outside the house, trying to breathe in the unbearable heat. I heard a muffled footstep and looked up. Jesus walked around the corner of the house. I don"t think I"ve ever been so happy to see anyone as at that moment.
Only 14, Jesus had grown into a rather nice-looking young man. He would never be what one called
„handsome." But then, he didn"t have to be. He was as tall as Joseph, with almost black, unruly curly hair. His prominent nose was almost hidden by facial hair. He had long, expressive hands that told stories as easily as his voice.
His voice...How could I possibly describe it? Almost like an ancient prophet, He could thunder at people who caused an injustice, or scold a sibling for disobeying parents. Then, at other times, a whisper showed His intense love to a child. To an older person, love was shown by a chuckle, a swift kiss or just a pat on the shoulder.
“Jesus, what are you doing here? I thought you were with the grandparents.”
“I went to the shop and worked awhile, but I thought you might need me.” His eyes were the most compassionate I had ever seen. With them, he reached out to everyone, especially those who needed love.
“You knew I was hurting, didn"t you?” And I raised a hand to Him.
He took it, squeezed it tightly and said, “Mother, I felt your hurt. I wanted to help if I could.”
“Come, sit beside me.” As we sat, I reached over and kissed his cheek. “I always need my children, Jesus, especially you.” For quite some time not a word was said. I don"t think I have ever been so comforted by anyone"s presence.
I sent the children to stay with my parents. Each morning as I opened the door, there they all stood, waiting...not saying a word. Only their eyes spoke volumes. I tried to comfort them. All I could do was tell them about their father"s condition and hug each. It broke my heart when I sent them back to Mother"s for the morning meal.
I barely slept for the next few days. I bathed Joseph, attempted to feed him, prayed, and made him as comfortable as possible. I held his hand and told him over and over how much I loved him. I begged him to fight to live.
I fed him small sips of chicken soup his Mother made. Once, we thought he was going to get better, but in the early morning hours before daybreak, his fever climbed higher and ever higher.
When I touched his skin, it felt like I had placed my hand in a baking oven. I bathed him, keeping Jesus and the other children on the run to the well to fetch more water. I wrapped him in cool, wet covers. Nothing helped.
That night, I sent everyone home with our children. I think all we adults knew if Joseph made it through the night, it would be a miracle. And we all prayed for miracles. Each went to his bed, kissed him and told him how much they loved him, though I"m sure he barely heard them.
Tears fell on already wet cheeks as his Mother, Father and Sarah left. They knew, without admitting it, this was probably the last time they would see Joseph alive.
Not a sound disturbed the room...except those of Joseph"s coughing and labored breathing.
In the small hours of the night, he awoke and motioned me to move closer. I picked up his hand with skin so translucent it had little more substance than a sunbeam. “Mary, I don"t want to go, but God has called.” His voice was weak and raspy, yet emphatic.
“Oh, my darling,” I could feel the tears flowing down my face. “Don"t leave me,” I begged, letting his hand go in order to hold his body tightly. “I need you so desperately.”
His voice weakened as he continued. “Take care of our little ones. Jesus will always help, you know.”
I nodded. “I know, but I need you.”
“Mary, I always loved you. Never forget that.”
His body was torn by damaging coughs until suddenly, in the midst of a cough, he stopped and took a deep, sighing breath.
My Joseph left me forever.
For awhile, as his body cooled, I held him, not wanting to share him with anyone else. I couldn"t let him go. We had been together most of my life. How could I live without him?
As the morning light crept in, I looked through the window toward the heavens. I saw Joseph clearly. He was smiling, as though he had met a Friend.
Almost before the day was fully grown, our home and courtyard was filled with friends and relatives. They brought food and cared for the other children. They cleaned the house and saw to Joseph"s body.
First, his body was washed and rubbed with oil by friends. As the odor of oil reached me, I remembered when Joseph told me that myrrh was often used as a burial oil. Of course, we had only that which was a gift to Jesus. I knew Joseph would be angered I even considered using it for him.
Then, he was wrapped in the grave clothes with fragrant spices packed between his body and the cloth. Finally, I wrapped his dear head in a linen napkin, kissing him just before his face was completely covered.
A drizzling rain began soon after dawn, wetting everything in sight. Though I heard people thank God for the rain, I could only think of Joseph going to his final resting place.
As we walked through the streets, taking Joseph"s body to the burial grounds outside the city, I felt as dead as Joseph.
Somehow, I could see my body moving, following Joseph, hearing the mourners, but I was not part of this ceremony.
Water wept from the sky, dampening everything around.
We reached the rocky caves where the dead of our village were laid to rest. I saw that someone had been there earlier, making the burial cave ready. The rock was slid back so it was opened, ready for Joseph"s wrapped body.
When his body was taken into the cave, my body and spirit came together again. The pain I felt was almost more than I could bear.
“Why have you taken him from me, God?” I ranted. “I needed him. Your Son needed him. We all needed him.
What have you done?” I collapsed and would have fallen to the ground, but Jesus held me.
“Come, Mother, we must go home.” Jesus said.
I screamed. “I can"t leave him. He"ll be alone.”
“Mother.” His quiet voice penetrated. “Come, Father would have wished you to be brave.” He gently took my arm and I don"t even remember going back to the home Joseph and I shared for all too few years.
As friends and relatives arrived for the ritual meal, they shook rain from their bodies. It was still falling, but it was a gentle, healing rain. I couldn"t eat. All I wanted was for people to go home, leave me alone so I could grieve for the man whom I had loved all my life.
But that was not to be.
Ours was a bereft household. The next period of time was worse than any nightmare. In fact, only a few hours after Joseph"s burial, I realized I had mountainous problems to face.
There were seven children to raise without a husband and little money to feed and clothe them. I knew Jesus and the other boys were capable of making some of the pieces of furniture Joseph designed. I also knew Jeremiah would sell everything they made. Money was essential, but would it be enough?
The children could barely believe their father was gone. Their fears were enormous. They were afraid God would take them, too. They feared we would starve if he wasn"t there to care for us. Their fears that no one would love them if they had no father was very real to them. They almost never left my side. I wondered why we didn"t drown in a sea of tears.
The first few nights, I awoke to my children sobbing. I was up most of the night getting them back to sleep. I tried to stay on the schedule we had lived by all their lives. I sent them to school, knowing they had no interest in it but, it was a beginning.
One day, grouped around me, I caught the strangest look from all of them...one of love and apprehension.
Suddenly, James came closely, placed his hand on my forehead, then turned and smiled at the rest. They grinned back and went outside for the first time.
I realized they had been afraid I would also become sick and leave them. After this episode, I thought the children could make it...not without scars, but they would eventually be all right.
Occasionally, I was able to get away for a few moments to find a little peace. One day, I felt I couldn"t stand people any more. I don"t know how, but I slipped from the house without anyone seeing me. Moving toward the olive grove where Joseph and I often met to enjoy a few moments of privacy, I noticed the weather was cooler than it had been only a few days before.
I made my way through the grove to the tree where we stood so many years ago discussing our marriage. I threw my arms around a gnarled limb with its thick, brown, scaly bark. Clinging to the tree I sobbed, begging God to let me know what to do. “How can I ever raise these children without Joseph?” I asked, not expecting an answer.
Birds chirruped nearby, seeming not to be disturbed at my presence. Insects skittered through the fallen leaves, making tiny noises. I looked upward through the ancient trees to the blue of the sky, trying to find the God who had taken Joseph from me. I wanted to ask Him “why,” and receive an answer.
A dove flew by, its wings sighing. I sighed as well, waiting for answers that would never come.
“Mother?” Hanna, dear Hanna, was there.
“Hanna! What are you doing here?” She was such a beautiful ten-year-old. Slim, like Leah, her smile was breathtaking. Her hair curled around her round, doll-like face. Gazing at the world as though it were her special jewel, she never saw the ugliness of life...only the beauty of God.
“I saw you leave. I wanted to give you a few minutes alone, but not too many.” She smiled up at me, shyly.
I put my arms around her and drew her near. “I"m so glad you came.”
“I am too,” she said. “But I always wondered. Why do you come to just this tree and no other?”
We stood for a moment as I considered what to tell her. “Here, let"s sit for a minute and I"ll try to answer your questions.”
We sat on a soft clump of greenery. I picked a grass stem, stuck it in my mouth and looked closely at her.
“When your father and I were very young, we had a grave misunderstanding and we almost decided not to marry.”
“Mother!” She clung to my hand. “That can"t be. You always loved each other. We all knew that.”
“That"s true, but we did have our moments, you know.” I smiled and looked down at her. She grinned back at me, nodding.
“Honey, parents often have places that are special where they feel closer, where they can talk without anyone else around. This was the place your father and I often came when we found a moment to be alone.” I stopped and it was almost as though she were holding her breath, waiting for me to continue.
“Hanna, it"s nothing special...just a tree. However, to us it was special. That"s why I come here...to feel closer to your father. It will always be special for me. When you get older and meet the man you wish to spend your life with, you will also have a special place. Maybe a hillside, a valley or even an ancient tree.”
“I understand,” she said. Jumping up, she grabbed my hand and pulled me up. Holding hands like two very young girls we hurried home, my heart"s burden lighter.
I needed that respite, because Sarah had become a troubling part of my daily worries. She withdrew from her family, God, the world. She was inconsolable. Everyone talked, commiserated, prayed with her. Nothing helped.
I barely knew how I faced each day. How could I help Sarah and her parents? I had no idea, but I knew I must do something to bring our families back to life. But what?
I prayed as I never had before.
The next morning, I rose much earlier than usual. When I knocked on Sarah"s door, she was still in bed. I opened the door and looked around. I couldn"t believe the house. There were dirty cooking containers; eating dishes weren"t cleaned.
Clothing was filthy and strewn across the floor as though no one lived in the house. Sarah"s husband Aaron, stumbled from the bedroom, bleary-eyed.
When he saw me, he just stared. He looked as though he wanted to cry as he grabbed me around the waist and clung tightly. “Mary, what am I going to do? I don"t know how to care for the children. I don"t know how to cook. My family is dying and I"m helpless.”
His body shook with sobs that tore him asunder. When his crying ceased, I held him for a moment. “I don"t know what we"re going to do, but I do know God and I will do something today.”
“Father?” One of the children, I forget which one. “I"m hungry. What are we going to eat?”
“I don"t know, son, but we"ll find something in a few moments.”
By this time, all the children were awake, standing like statues, waiting for their father to fix something to eat or tell them what to do.
“Aaron, don"t worry. I will do something...I don"t know what. Please don"t let the children get upset if you hear noises.”
I took a deep breath, looked toward heaven and walked into the bedroom. Suddenly, I yanked Sarah from her bed. She plopped onto the floor like a sack of grain. “Sarah, I"m tired of this. You"ve got to help me!”
“Whaa?” She struggled to grasp the side of the bed so she could pull herself back under the covers.
“Get up from there, Sarah.” I screamed at her. “I can"t believe what you"re doing to your family.” I was furious.
In all our lives, I had never been as angry as I was at this moment. “I"m so ashamed of you I"m glad Joseph isn"t here to see you like this.”
She yelled back. “How can you say that? Did you ever love him? How can you act like this when he"s just died?”
I shouted back. “I have to act like this because everyone else is so tied up in their anger and hurt, I don"t have anyone to listen to mine.” And my sobs fell before I could stop them.
I wiped them across my face.
“Your children need food. Your mother and father are really hurting, your husband is trying to be mother and father to your children while you lie in bed and neglect all of them.”
“Mary...?” Her voice sounded as though she were awakening from a deep sleep.
“Oh, Sarah.” And I put my arms around her, helping her to stand. When she was upright, she grabbed me and held me tightly.
“Oh, Mary, how can you ever forgive me? What have I done?”
She started tossing clothing on. She stopped and looked around the room. “When did I let this get into such a mess?”
I didn"t answer.
“I know my babies are hungry. I know Aaron hates me. What am I going to do?”
I smiled secretly and thanked God He had shown me the way to awaken her.
She hurried to the other room, where her family gazed at her as though she were a person they didn"t even know. She walked to Aaron and placed her arms on his shoulders. “Can you forgive me?”
He grabbed her, lowered his head to her unwashed head and raised his eyes to heaven. “There is nothing to forgive. You were just heartbroken.”
She straightened, opened her arms to her children and hugged them tightly. Then she glanced in my direction.
“Let"s go get water so I can fix food for my family.”
She kissed her husband and children, giving each a special word of love. Then she and I went to get water.
Life seemed to have fled from Joseph"s parents when he went to God. Now that Sarah and her family were on the road to recovery, I must turn to his parents, I told myself.
They were heart broken and nothing appeared to appease their suffering. Jesus encouraged His grandfather to go to the shop with him. This helped. For a time, I was more concerned about Joseph"s Mother than anyone.
She appeared to roam into another world. Sometimes, it was all we could do to bring her back. Finally, Jesus left the shop early one day and went to see his Grandmother.
When He entered our front door, His face was pale and His clothing wet with sweat. He held onto the door frame, gasping deeply, as though he had run a long r