We heard of John occasionally. He preached in the Wilderness and had quite a following. On one of Abner"s visits he told me about a strange occurrence, involving John.
Jesus began taking trips into the hills. Then I heard nothing from Him for days...sometimes a week or more. I worried but there was nothing I could do. We both knew His time was near and I tried desperately to accept what I knew I never could.
I had prepared food, with Abner bringing a delicious wine. We finished our meal and were sitting in the courtyard in front of our house. These trees grew so much during the years that they now provided shade over the entire table.
It was early evening. Swaying tree limbs cooled the air. A few wispy clouds danced across a blue sky. Bees buzzed lazily in and out of honeysuckle blooms that sweetened the air. Pomegranates hung from the tree as dusk enveloped the earth.
Abner changed little over the years. He had gained weight, and his hair was now almost white. He retained his generous smile and his eyes still glowed with the happiness of youth. A few wrinkles sketched his sun darkened face.
After we greeted each other, I looked around, hoping none of the grandchildren or children would visit. I wanted to enjoy Abner alone. He always discussed the most interesting subjects. Today his conversation was even more unusual than normal, I discovered.
He poured us a small glass of wine and said, “Have you heard from Jesus?”
“Not for awhile,” I said. “He came to see us a few weeks ago. But He told me He felt a need to go away.” I took a sip of wine and continued. “Abner, sometimes when He comes home for a few hours or a few days he looks so exhausted. It breaks my heart.”
“I know.” Abner patted my hand. “I don"t think I"m going to make you feel any better, either.”
“Why? What have you heard? What"s happened? Is Jesus all right?” My voice rose as fear filled me.
“Mary.” He patted my hand, then held it loosely. “I think Jesus is fine, but I heard that John was preaching near the Jordan River. I knew you would be interested so I went to see for myself. His preaching is very unusual.”
“Unusual? What do you mean, Abner?” I turned my hand over so I could hold onto his.
“He looks like my idea of a Prophet of old. He"s fiery of speech and thunders at his followers as though he were calling the wrath of the Lord down on them.” Abner laughed. “He called the people a brood of vipers and asked them who told them to flee the anger that was to come.”
“Oh, my goodness. He gets quite carried away, doesn"t he?” I slid my hand from his and pushed the hair from my face. The roll loosened from the pins and was falling.
“He told the people they should be baptized to be saved.” I was puzzled. “Saved from what, Abner?”
“Apparently from the wrath of God.” He sipped his wine and placed the goblet back on the table.
“Go on.” I urged. I had never heard of anything remotely concerning baptism.
“John told them if they owned two tunics, they should give one to someone in need. He also said the same about food.” “I"ll bet the people weren"t too happy to hear that.” I picked up the bottle of Abner"s special wine and poured a little more into my goblet.
Abner drained his. I refilled it. He said, “The entire event was quite strange, Mary. A tax collector asked if he could be saved. John told him yes, but he was allowed to take in taxes of the amount owed, not any extra for himself.”
“That must have made the tax collector happy.” I dryly remarked. I remembered the conversation Joseph and I held before we made the journey to Bethlehem. Tax collectors always took more than necessary.
“I don"t know about that.” Abner shook his head in bewilderment. He took a sip of wine, swallowed, then continued. “Soldiers then asked if they could be saved.”
“Soldiers? The same people who put others to death on the cross whether innocent or guilty?”
“The same.” Abner said.
“What did John say to that?” I swirled the wine and watched it climb the side of the goblet, then settle into a quiet, red liquid.
“John told them they were forbidden to take money from anyone by force. They were not allowed to accuse anyone falsely, and they must be content with their wages.” His voice became quiet, almost reverent. “If they did these things, they could be baptized.”
“Those are strange messages, Abner. Do you know what they mean?”
“Not really.” Abner stretched his arms above his head, then rested them back on the table.
“How does he look?” I was still concerned for John.
“You haven"t seen him, have you?”
“Never. We always miss each other.”
“He"s a big hairy man. He looks almost as though he belongs with the animals.”
I still felt I owed Elizabeth and Zacharias for all they had done for me. If I could do something for their son, I would be pleased. “Is he getting enough to eat?”
“I don"t know about that, Mary.” Abner looked at me with a strange expression on his face. “Apparently, he eats only locusts and wild honey.”
“He lives on insects?” I was appalled that a relative ate such to survive.
Abner laughed. “No, Mary. Not insects. There"s a locust tree which grows beanlike pods. When they"re green, they"re very sour. As they ripen, the pods fill with a honey-like syrup that"s used to make sweets.”
“Oh.” I felt foolish. “But he really lives on those bean pods, or whatever they are, and wild honey?”
“That"s what I understand.”
I was slightly mollified. “What about clothing? Does he have enough to wear?”
“His cloak is made of camel"s hair and he wears a leather belt around his waist.”
Abner stopped speaking for such a long time I looked at him closely. I clasped my hands together, suspecting I was about to hear something even more strange. “Go on, Abner.”
His voice quietened as he spoke. “John said he baptized with water, but someone was coming after him who would baptize with the Holy Spirit.” Abner looked at everything around the courtyard except me.
“Tell me, Abner.” I knew before he spoke that my heart would ache at the information he imparted.
“Not too long after he finished, Jesus arrived at the Jordan.” Abner picked up both my hands and held them tenderly. “John took one look at Jesus and cried, „He is the one who is greater than I. I am not worthy to tie his shoe laces."”
“Oh, no.” My cry of anguish escaped.
“Then Jesus asked John to baptize Him. They both went down into the water of the Jordan.” He squeezed my hands as though he wanted to never let go, and continued. “When John lifted Jesus from the water, the Holy Spirit, in the form of a dove, descended upon Jesus and a voice came out of the heavens. „THOU ART MY
BELOVED SON, IN THEE I AM WELL PLEASED.”
I dropped my head and held tightly to Abner"s hands. The most consuming sorrow I had ever known filled me.
The Son I gave birth to and raised was now acknowledged by His Father. I should have been happy at God"s pleasure In Jesus. I wasn"t. I was incredibly sad. The time for his death drew nearer and nearer.
“Oh, Abner.” Sobs overcame me. I could say no more.
He stood, drew me to my feet and held me. He patted my back as though I were a child. When my sobs quieted he moved me away from him. Very softly, he said, “Mary, there"s more.”
We sat back at the table and I looked up at him. My eyes were swollen from sobbing. I could barely see his face. “More?”
“Yes. Jesus left the area as soon as He was baptized. He told John the Holy Spirit was sending Him into the wilderness.”
“And?” I didn"t want to know, but I also knew I must hear.
“That was two weeks ago. No one has seen Him since.”
I stood up, then paced around the table. “Where is He, Abner? Do you have any idea?” I couldn"t sit or stand still. I felt a need to move or my entire body would shake into small pieces and fly into the air.
“Someone said He left for Jebel Quruntul.” Abner stated quietly.
My hands flew to my mouth with the horror I felt. “Oh, no, Abner. That place is horrible. There are only barren rocks. What will He eat? What will He drink? Whatever can He do in such a place?”
I pleaded with my eyes for Abner to tell me good news. Not this. I picked up the goblet and sipped the wine.
“I don"t know, Mary.” His voice cracked in sorrow. I heard him swallow a sob. He had known and loved Jesus almost His entire life. Abner hurt almost as much as I.
Sitting at the table I tried to speak in a quiet, controlled voice. “How long will He stay?”
“I don"t know, Mary.” He again picked up my hand. “I wish I did. I would follow Him if I could.”
“I know you would Abner, but He must go alone.”
“Yes.” Our voices were so quiet, they could not be heard even a few inches away. A visitor would only have seen tears glistening in our eyes. I slid my hand from Abner"s.
I clasped my hands together in sorrow. “Oh, my poor baby.” Though Jesus was now 30 years old, He would always be my baby.
Abner looked deeply into my eyes. “Mary, please let me take care of you now. I could help you cope with what is to come.”
“I can"t do that to you, Abner.” I looked into his kind and wonderful eyes. “I know Jesus will begin His ministry soon. He and I talked about it. When He does, I shall be with Him as much as possible. It won"t be frequent, but I must spend as much time with Him as I can. It wouldn"t be fair to you.”
“Let me be the judge,” he said, pleading with me.
“I can"t Abner. I must be available for Him. God gave me a job thirty years ago. I don"t think it"s complete.”
“Poor Mary. You"ve always given to others. You never think of yourself. I shall always love you, Mary, and,”
he smiled, “I shall never stop trying to marry you.” He kissed my forehead, then passed a hand over my chin so softly I wondered if I had imagined it.
“Thank you for that, Abner.”
We stood and talked a few moments more before he walked back to the room he rented for the night.
My life came to a standstill. I talked with all my children two or three times a week. None of us heard from Jesus...not even rumors.
James came over one night. He ranted about how inconsiderate Jesus was. He said “Jesus should let someone know where He goes and how long he will be gone.” James still bore a grudge against Jesus. The other three boys said little. They never mentioned their Brother except in a caring way.
My daughters, Hannah and Rachel loved Jesus. They felt He could do no wrong. They seldom said much around James because he had become so overbearing and obnoxious when we mentioned Jesus" name. I ignored James" ranting as much as possible, but I wondered how his lovely wife, Marianne, put up with it. I treated her with special care. I kept their children frequently so she had time for herself. I even cooked occasionally to give her a break.
My parents died very quietly one night while Jesus was absent. One day they were with us, the next they were gone. Some said they tired of living. Others said they lived long enough and wanted to be with God. Still others thought Jesus caused them to worry themselves to death.
I knew Mother and Father were getting old and tired. I also knew they were both bothered with shortness of breath. This condition worsened as time passed. Mother and I had talked almost every day since Joseph and I returned from Egypt.
The day before they died, I carried stew like Mother and I used to make and bread that Father loved so much. I ate while they pushed their food around. They both remarked how tired they felt lately. When I left, Mother and Father kissed me and hugged me to them tightly.
I didn"t know it would be for the last time.
The next morning Rachel went to visit Mother. She and Father lay in bed holding hands, a smile on their faces.
Rachel notified Leah immediately. She arrived home in time for the burial.
Rachel was desolate. She and Mother were even closer than Mother and I. We were saddened about Father, as well. All of the children went to the fields with him, rode his oxen, learned to plow, plant and harvest with his help. All, even James, realized just how dear to us the two of them were.
After we buried them, Leah and her family returned to Cana. Our lives became somber. Now, both sets of grandparents were gone. We children were parents and our children were growing up. The others had their own lives. I tried to live without depending on them.
I rather enjoyed my freedom. Sarah and I left our never-ending friendship aside while our families grew up.
Now, we again became close. We saw each other almost every morning when we drew water. Later, if we wanted company, we visited each other. We talked of Jesus many times, and worried about Him.
One day, Sarah and I shared our midday meal at her home. Jesus was our primary conversation. We both worried and wondered where and how He was. So many rumors floated around us, but no one saw or heard from him for weeks.
This day, soon after eating, a strange intuition told me something would happen. I shivered.
“Something bothering you?”
“I don"t know.” I said, and looked off in the distance. “I feel so strange.” I rose and picked up dishes to take into the house. “Sarah, I must go home.”
“Leave those. Go,” she ordered. Her love touched me. “I"ll be over later to see how you fare.”
“Thanks.”
As I walked home, birds in the trees fussed at me. They must have young ones nearby, I thought. The sun overhead cast a haze over our courtyard.
When I arrived home, I fixed a goblet of water and went outside to read the scriptures. I felt closer to Jesus when I read of God and the prophets. No one had heard anything about or from Him in a month and a half. I felt sure that prayer and reading the scriptures were the only reasons I stayed sane.
Something made me look up. In the distance, a stranger stumbled toward me. His thin body lurched from side to side like a drunken man. His entire body and the rags that hung on his skeletal frame were filthy. His hair was long and matted. His skin had burned, blistered, then reburned. His lips were almost a continuous sore. His sandals barely hung on His scratched and bleeding feet.
Then I recognized Jesus. I ran and put my arms around Him. He leaned on me as though he could barely take another step.
“Come, Jesus. Let"s get you something to eat.” I said, taking a wobbling step as He leaned on me. “First, we must get you cleaned.”
“I"m all right.” He mumbled, but His eyes were barely slitted.
I sat Him at the table. He braced his elbows on the table and bowed his head onto his hands. I quickly returned with a pan of water, soap and soft cloths to wash Him. I cleansed only His face and hands. I tried to clean the open sores without causing too much pain.
I stooped and untied the remains of His sandals. The stench from his feet was terrible. I brought another pan of water and cleansed His feet as He sat, still and silent.
“Come, Jesus. Can you walk inside?”
He nodded and tried to pull himself up. I helped get Him in an upright position. He leaned on me as we stumbled through the door. I insisted He drink milk and eat a piece of bread with cheese. He could barely stay awake long enough to consume the food. He fell asleep once or twice as He chewed.
After eating a small amount, His head fell onto His filthy chest. Somehow, I woke Him enough to get Him into a bed. For three days, I stayed by His bedside, praying He would heal. I cleansed a little more of Him each day, then applied a balm given to me by the physician.
Word of His arrival swept the village like a fast moving broom. Friends and family gathered, wanting to catch a glimpse of Him. I refused to let them stare.
When His brothers and sisters arrived, they were horrified at His appearance. Even James showed concern and tried to shave Him. Jesus" face was in such dismal condition that James gave up. I cut some of His hair but it was such a curly, dirty mass, I finally left it alone.
Each of his sisters and brothers worked at making Him comfortable. They moved Him enough to change the linens, then washed his body as much as possible. There was little they could do, but they brought food, hoping to tempt Him when He awoke.
On the third day, I arose early and brought fresh water back from the well. When I opened the door, Jesus sat at the table, a big smile on His face. I placed the jug on a bushel and said, in relief, “Feeling better?”
He nodded, then smiled, that dear wonderful smile. “How long have I been here?”
“Three days.” I poured water for us to drink and asked. “Hungry?”
“Starved.” He looked just as He had all the years He lived at home. The only apparent differences were healed sores and his too-thin body.
I placed cheese, bread, figs, and milk on the table. Even suspecting how hungry he was, I was surprised at the food he consumed. He talked little while eating. Finally, He asked, “Who cleansed me?”
“I did, at first. Then your brothers and sisters cleaned as much as possible.”
He looked at me in surprise. “How could a tiny person like you ever get me in bed?”
I smiled at Him. “You woke up enough so I could get you over there. I had to leave your robe on, but the rest I managed to remove and get you as clean as possible.”
He ran his hand over his beard. “Ugh. I must get cleaned up and see if I still have clothing.” He looked down at himself. “I think I got thinner while I was gone.”
“I"d say you did.” I remarked dryly.
He smiled and reached for my hand. “Oh, Mother. I"m sorry for the heartache I"ve caused you. Please forgive me.”
“Jesus, there is nothing to forgive. If You feel You can, please tell me where you were and what you were doing.”
He let my hand go and picked at a bread crumb from the table. “I hardly know where to start.”
“The beginning,” I said. “Maybe at your baptism by John.”
“You heard about that?” And He looked at me in surprise.
“Yes.”
“After John baptized me, the angels came down from Heaven. I saw and heard My Father as He said He was well pleased with Me.” He reached for his milk, a shy smile lighting His face.
I didn"t say anything as he sipped his milk, then began talking again. “As I left the Jordan, I started up the mountains into the Wilderness to fast and pray. Mother,” He said, looking directly at me. “Those mountains are so barren even birds have trouble finding food.”
“How horrible for you to live there, even for a short time.”
“There are animals there, though. Birds and serpents and flocks of goats. The vegetation is sparse, but they manage to eat tufts of grass growing between rocks.” He sipped water, then continued. “There are spindly shrubs that have a few leaves. The animals aren"t fat, but they survive.”
I reached over and took His dear hand into mine. “Why did You go?”
“I don"t know.” It was evident He was bewildered. “I was led, I suppose. I stayed there for 40 days and nights.
All I did was pray. I neither ate nor drank.” His voice became a drone, without inflection, as though he were reciting words. “At the end of 40 days, I knew I must get back home to you or I would die. I picked myself up from the dull white chalk of the mountain and took steps to come down.”
I said nothing, waiting for His next words.
“The Devil himself came to me, Mother. I was famished. The Devil said if I worshiped him, he"d turn the stones into bread for me. When I looked at those rough stones, they appeared to be just like the loaves you bake. I knew he could do it.” He paused a moment. “And I was tempted.”
“Oh, my poor child.”
“My Father told me what to say, I"m sure. I told the devil that „Man shall not live by bread alone, but by every word that proceeds from the mouth of God."”
I don"t know how I felt. Outrage that my Son had to endure such treatment. Sorrow that I couldn"t be there to help. Bewilderment that His Father required him to endure so much.“He didn"t stop there, Mother.” Jesus looked at me as though He couldn"t understand why anyone would do this thing. “He took me, or my mind took me, to the pinnacle of the Temple of Jerusalem, overlooking the Kidron Valley. He said if I jumped, angels would catch me and bring me safely home.”
I was so fascinated by all this I couldn"t speak. I knew that valley held the worst stones. Many have died, falling from the mountain.
“I again turned him away with scriptures.” Jesus continued. “I told him not to tempt God.”
“And then?” I asked.
“I was suddenly back on a high mountain. The Devil showed me all the kingdoms of the world. He told me if I worshiped him, I could have it all.”
He shook his shaggy head as though He wondered why anyone would want the entire kingdom of man anyway.
“I told him to get out of my sight. I wanted no part of him. That"s the last I remember until the angels came and helped me down the mountain. They took care of my immediate needs. Then, I found myself at the foot of the mountain, making my way home to you. I knew if I could get here, you would care for me.”
I arose, picked up his hand and squeezed it. “Always.”
The next few days were blissful. His brothers, sisters and friends came often to talk with Jesus. They were thankful He was home. He told none of them where He had been or of his experiences. Neighbors brought food He liked. He walked in the fields with the men, and talked with women at the well. He played with children as He always had. He visited every sick or old person He knew. Some of them were healed, but He refused to acknowledge His role in the healing.
There was an aura around Him. None of us understood exactly what it was. He was with us in body, but He also seemed far away at times. The next few days were peaceful.
I had no idea our peace was about to be shattered.
On the Sabbath, He entered the synagogue and stood up. The book of the prophet Isaiah was handed to Him to read. He read, “The spirit of the Lord is upon Me, because He anointed Me to preach the Gospel to the poor. He has sent Me to proclaim release to the captives. And recovery of sight to the blind. The down-trodden shall be set free. He sent me to proclaim the favorable year of the Lord.”
He closed the book, then gave it to an attendant. The eyes of everyone in the Synagogue were turned toward Him. Then Jesus said, “Today, this Scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing.”
Even knowing He was the Son of God, it was difficult for me to believe He was actually telling these people who He was. He was telling friends and relatives who had known Him all His life that He was the Savior of the world. His brothers looked at Him as though He had lost His mind. The two girls who sat on either side, looked at me with pity.
There was a collective gasp from the congregation. The horrified look on their faces as they contemplated what Jesus said was almost more than I could handle. Compassion for my sons and daughters was foremost in my mind, knowing the anguish they would endure from the attitudes of their friends and neighbors.
He continued to speak to the congregation until the angry roar from the crowd obliterated His words. They became so angry at Him for saying He was the Son of God, they threatened to cast Him from the city. They wanted to take Him to the brow of the hill so they could throw Him to His death.
Just as God helped Joseph and me elude Herod with Jesus thirty years before, so too, did Jesus escape.
Then, Jesus" ministry and the end of His life began.
Of course, all my children and their families came to my house after the service at the Synagogue. All were quite vocal as we walked home. The spouses and grandchildren were so quiet, one hardly knew they were there.
This was the most excitement in our village, ever. Neighbors lost no opportunity to let me know how they felt about it. They told me they had always known Jesus was crazy. He had never been much help to anyone, that He was as unfeeling as He had always been, making me suffer the consequences of His crazy talk.
I tried to ignore them, as I had when I was pregnant with Him and they called me horrible names. But it wasn"t easy.
Before we entered the door of my home after services, James started. “I knew something like this would happen one of these days. You know He"s crazy, don"t you Mother?”
“Of course He isn"t crazy, James.” I answered, trying to place food on the table. I only hoped I had enough to feed all these people.
“Just what do you call it?” James still darted here and there as he had for his entire life. He flung his arms about as he strode from one end of the room to the other. I suddenly wondered if maybe he were the mad man.
“James, if you will sit down, I will tell all of you a story.” I handed cheese and bread to someone to take outside. “Whether you choose to believe this or not is your decision. First, I want you to put food on the table outside and let the older children take care of the younger ones. We can then talk without interruption.”
James looked around like a child who had been reprimanded. The children settled outside, we closed the door and my grown children sat around the table inside. They looked at me expectantly as I stood at the end of the table and began my story.
“One night, thirty years ago, I was sleeping on the roof when I had a visit from an angel...”
No one spoke until I finished my story. Then all six spoke at once. I raised my hands. “Please, you have heard it all. You know your Brother is also the Son of God. That is all I can tell you.” I arose and said. “I want every one of you to finish your meal and take your children home.”
“But, Mother...” James rose angrily.
“James, I"m tired. I don"t want to hear or to say another word. You have the knowledge. Whether you choose to believe it or not is your business.”
I picked up and covered bowls of food that my family ignored during the story. “I love all of you. You know that. But I would appreciate it if you would go home.” I spoke quietly, unemotionally. “Please give me a little time alone.”
My children filed from the room, each one hugging and kissing me. They collected their children and left.