Since Nazareth is on a trade route, many caravans come through our town. Situated in the lower valley of the Lebanon mountains, we often saw these caravans as they snaked around the mountains and down into our village.
Looking East, travelers were miniature people as they moved through the mountains of Gilead across the Jordan valley. Soldiers rode Arabian horses down the highways that ran east to Jordan. Most people however, went south to Samaria, Jerusalem or Egypt through the Plain of Australian. Seeing people head toward the west, we knew they would probably meet a ship at the Mediterranean Sea. Most travels north led to Damascus.
My Father frequently sold his fruits and vegetables to many of them. Jeremiah owned a caravan and purchased goods from my father. Over the years they became very good friends.
As we talked after our meal that night, Father said, “I heard today Jeremiah would be here soon. He"s on his way to Jerusalem. I know he"ll be happy to take you with him.”
“He"s a nice person. I remember the last time he was in town, he ate with us. Isn"t he the one who brings gifts for Mother?”
“Yes, and if he weren"t such a good friend, I could find myself becoming jealous.” Father picked up Mother"s hand and grinned at her.
“Oh, Joachim, how you do run on.” Mother smiled at him as she removed her hand and patted his arm. “I won"t be apprehensive at all if Mary is in his care.”
So it was decided I would leave as soon as Jeremiah arrived.
Until then, Sarah was the only person allowed into our home to visit. I still couldn"t talk with her about what happened. I knew our trip to the synagogue caused brows to raise and questions to be asked.
I also knew gossip was a familiar pastime in Nazareth. Shame hovered over me as I knew had it been another girl I might have been tempted to be a part of the gossip.
Though God did not approve of anger, I was furious with the Rabbi. The hurt Joseph caused was even worse. I cried so much my emotions were as wrung out as the clothing on wash day.
Soon after my visit from the angel Jeremiah arrived. Father asked if I might accompany him to Cousin Elizabeth"s home.
After two days of preparations, I was kissing my family goodby.
“Now, Mary, are you sure you have enough food?” Mother was anxious; she hated my leaving. “Here, take this honey cake, and the pickled eggs.”
“Mother,” I said, and tucked them into the side of the straw bag. “I have more than enough for five days.
You"ve given me a whole mutton ham.” I laughed and held up the bag. “I"ll be big as the donkey if I eat all this.”
Daniel added. “Don"t forget the cheese you packed, Mother. It"ll feed her for days.” Daniel could not understand my hasty departure, but he was trying.
“And I packed dried figs, dates and raisins.” Leah"s lips quivered as she tried to smile. I hugged her and she clung to me tightly and asked, “Oh, Mary, why do you have to go away?”
“I told you, my little sister. Mother"s cousin is going to have a baby. I"ll stay with her and help for a little while.”
“Three months?” she wailed. “You"ll forget what I look like.”
I grabbed her and laughed aloud. “Oh, Leah, you are much too precious. I could never forget you. Besides, you"ll be so busy helping Mother, you won"t have time to miss me. I"ll be home almost before you know I"m gone.”
“I miss you already,” Her lips trembled as tears slowly coursed down her cheeks.
I wiped tears from her face, wanting to give in to mine. “I must go. They can"t hold the caravan for me any longer.” I hugged and kissed her, then lifted her chin so we could look into each other"s eyes. “You take good care of Mother and Father.”
“I will, but I don"t want you to go.” Her chin trembled.
“I know, but Cousin Elizabeth needs me right now. I promise, I"ll be back soon.” I turned before she could see the tears dribbling from my eyes and down my cheeks.
Although Daniel and Leah were young, they too understood life. They also understood birth and death. They had seen Mother when she lost a baby a few years earlier. They knew women should be cared for when they were about to have a child. So my leaving was understandable, but not a very happy one for them.
It was difficult for Mother, Father and me, as well. I had never been away from my family. It seemed I was leaving everything I held dear...my family, my home, Sarah and, yes, even Joseph. Suddenly, I felt tossed about like a tree discarding limbs in a storm.
I was leaving, but my heart would remain with my loved ones.
Father carried my bag and the goatskin filled with water as we walked silently to the place where the caravan was forming. Never had I felt so alone as when he rapidly kissed me, gave me the bundle of food and water, then turned abruptly as I joined the caravan.
I knew I couldn"t dwell on his leaving or my departure from my family and all I had known my entire life. I looked around to discover my interest was rapidly replacing my loneliness.
There were animals laden with I knew not what. People milled around as though there was no destination.
Hump-backed camels were lashed four or five together so the owner could control all of them with just one thong. They, like we humans, now stood patiently waiting for something to happen.
Children chased each other, played tag, teased one another, then became interested in the animals joining the throng. Mothers attempted to control their families, but soon ignored them and let them play.
Fathers watched animals, helped where needed in packing supplies and aided in getting animals and people in order so the journey might begin.
Leaving Nazareth, I attempted to see everything. When the journey began we traveled through a landscape of different colored greys and browns...creams, tans, terra cottas and beige. I particularly noticed the camels as they walked slowly and deliberately, their nostrils flaring toward the sky. I now understood why they were called “ships of the desert.” When they walked, their entire bodies rolled from side to side like ships I had seen sailing on the sea of Galilee.
These animals were laden with goods for every use and from every part of the world.
I wondered aloud where all this merchandise came from. A young boy overheard me and said, “carpets and spices come from the Far East.”
Another chimed in. “Mr. Jeremiah told us some of the camels carried jewels from India.”
“Really?”
“Yes.” His little gap-toothed mouth grinned up at me. “He said they sparkled their way across the seas.”
What a nice turn of phrase, I thought.
The group listened, laughing in delight.
A lady said. “Usually, silks of every color make the long journey from China.”
“Who can afford to buy such expensive goods?” I asked, amazed at what I was hearing.
She said, “They"ll be purchased in Jerusalem by rich people.” She looked around to make sure she had an audience. “People who work in palaces or who own businesses can sometimes afford these riches. They buy products much higher in price than you or I could.” She grinned at me, as we walked side-by-side.
One little girl chimed in. “We even got fish.”
“Fish?” I was astonished fish could be transported.
“Yes, they preserve them in oil.” She preened herself as she spoke. “Mr. Jeremiah told me.”
Another lady who hadn"t said a word since the trip began remarked in a soft voice. “They even have papyrus on this caravan.”
It was almost more than I could assimilate. “I had no idea Jeremiah carried such valuable wares.”
Later, I discovered some of the goods the camels carried would be deposited in Jerusalem. Others were loaded on boats and taken by sea to many parts of the world. I had no idea where the caravan originated and didn"t know just where some of the merchandise went.
I was finding out how small my world in Nazareth really was. I had certainly heard of the Far East but I had no idea where China was, in relation to Nazareth. I knew Jerusalem was...south...but I didn"t know how far it was.
Men, women and children walked behind the camels. At that time, I wondered at their destinations. Some wore robes that covered their entire bodies. Women showed me that placing the cowl from my robe over my head was essential. It prevented dirt and sand from blowing in my face.
Rocks embedded themselves inside our sandals and we stopped frequently to remove them. The caravan never halted. Only people with problems halted and later rejoined the group.
Heat ricocheted from the heavens to our little group, now walking toward Jerusalem. The sun burned its way through any cloud that ventured to show itself in the sky. We wet cloths with our sweat and placed them on our heads.
Women and children herded a few goats in the center of the caravan.
“Why would you carry live animals on the caravan?” I asked, bending over to remove a pebble from my sandal.
One of the women spoke. “They"re here because food could became scarce.”
“But why?” I glanced up at the sky, wondering if I would survive the heat of this day. “I understood the trip would only take about five days.”
“Sometimes there are storms or a caravan will be attacked.”
I laughed. “Right now, a storm would feel good, I think.”
She agreed and smiled. “If it becomes necessary a goat can be slaughtered, then cooked for food.”
“Do they also kill the sheep?”
“Oh, no. They"re brought along to become burnt offerings in the synagogues and temples of Jerusalem.”
We walked, and occasionally grasped the arm of another as we skipped along on one foot while we cleared our sandals.
I stopped abruptly and the child behind bumped me. I turned rapidly and grabbed him before he could fall. “I"m so sorry. I"m not used to traveling.”
He grinned up at me. “It"s all right. I do it all the time.”
I turned back to my traveling companion. “You mean people take their animals to the temples to sell to someone who has no offering?” I was amazed.
“If you look closely,” She pointed at the sheep. “You"ll notice these animals are young and tender and will bring a good price.” I hadn"t noticed how young the sheep were, until that moment.
Tawny-colored mountains in the distance caught my eye. They appeared to climb to the heavens. Often, there was a black spot in these hills. I was informed these were caves where shepherds, as well as travelers and different animals made these holes their homes.
I looked to the head of the caravan.
The leader and some of his men rode Arabian horses. Before we began our journey, the animals" coats had been rubbed to a high gloss. Of course, it didn"t take long for the sand to accumulate in the horses" hair and become tangled. Whatever happened to their coats, these horses stepped high, their heads held proudly, almost regally.
Jeremiah the leader, frequently looked back to see that the entire caravan was moving along with few or no problems.
Our leader was a man about the same age as my father. However, his nose was large and proud looking. When he stepped from his horse, I realized he was almost six feet tall. His dark brown hair was thinning on top and the hair of his magnificent beard covered most of his face. His snapping brown eyes disappeared in crinkles when his belly-laugh roared through the caravan.
The smile he bestowed on everyone made each of us want to do his bidding. He stopped now to talk with women and children. “Are you keeping up all right?”
“Oh, everything is fine,” An older lady said. “No problems for the moment.”
His eyes crinkled. “Not even with Mary?” He particularly singled me out I thought, because he and my father were friends.
“No, she"s doing fine.” the lady stated and smiled at me.
“Mary, I forgot to ask before we left. Did you bring enough food for five days?” I was thankful for Jeremiah"s concern.
“Yes. In fact, I filled my skin with water just before we left this morning.”
“Good.” He wheeled his horse around and slowly rode to the end of the caravan, checking on each person.
Mother and I had prepared food to last for about four or five days. I wasn"t too concerned about water, because our leader insisted every stop be made at a caravansary. Before we left, I asked my father why the leader insisted on stopping at a caravansary and not out in the open.
“Little Mary,” he answered. “Frequently travelers are attacked on the roads.”
“Yes, I heard about that happening.”
“In stopping at a caravansary, besides the protection of the men who work with Jeremiah, there are walls.
Thieves seldom attempt to climb these walls.”
“Oh.”
“That"s one of the reasons I was delighted it was Jeremiah you were traveling with.”
As I walked and sweated and grumbled about the heat, I was so entranced with all the new happenings, I gave little thought to stopping for the night.
We walked up and down hills. The hills were covered with grass and flowers of every description. The brilliance of red poppies that survived in the mountains overshadowed everything else. They twinkled amongst the grey, wrinkled slate of the hills.
Near the pathway where we walked, white flowers, with blossoms measuring as wide as a man"s hand, grew in abundance. Flowers of pink, blue and purple dotted the countryside. The sky blue of the flax plant looked delicate against the harshness of the hills. Yet the fiber of the plant itself was so strong it was used to make fine linen.
The beginning of my journey must be the beginning of the drought season, I thought. This first day, even with the cowl covering most of my face, I felt I ate enough dust and dirt to grow a garden. My throat was constantly dry but I tried to save my water until I was extremely thirsty.
The children began the day running, playing and chattering alongside their parents. Soon they ventured away to meet the rest of the children of the caravan.
We didn"t stop for a meal in the middle of the day. The women of the caravan produced bread and fruit as we walked. They fed their children, then ate themselves as they put one weary foot in front of the other.
The smaller children tired and their steps lagged. Mothers picked them up and carried them. I even picked up a little girl and carried her for some time. She napped on my shoulder as we walked along. Her entire body became wet with perspiration, and wisps of hair curled around her face. I ran my fingers through her hair, attempting to let a little coolness touch her head. I wanted to squeeze this child as though she were mine.
I wondered if this love and closeness I had for this baby was how a mother felt when carrying her own sleeping child.
Protection of this tired little body who rested against me in complete trust was my primary concern. Every once in awhile, she opened her eyes as I stumbled, then again settled in sleep, her arm around my neck.
The heat of the sun finally abated a little. Children awoke refreshed and began their play. My arms ached from holding the little girl, but I knew I was beginning to really believe I could be a mother.
Just at dusk we stopped at a caravansary, the first I had ever seen.
I noticed high walls built of sun-dried brick as our entire caravan went through the gates just before the sun set.
Gates were locked for the night to keep everyone who entered safe from marauders.
As we walked through the gate, I looked around. In the center of the courtyard was a well. What a welcome sight for weary travelers. We hurried to wash our faces and hands and refill our water containers.
While I waited my turn to get a drink of water, I noticed the yard. At one side of the wall was a two-storied building. There was no floor on the bottom story. I was told animals ate and slept there. The small upper rooms were rented to travelers who could afford such small comforts.
Since I carried no money to rent a room or even a cot, I laid my pallet out in the open with the other women.
We gathered a few sticks of wood and built a small fire. As we ate figs, bread, cheese and dried grapes, we drank water from the goat skins and sat around the fire, talking.
A breeze started, blowing wisps of sand across the courtyard. I didn"t mind the sand, I thought, the wind feels so wonderful.
As the night grew closer, the children went to sleep but the women and I talked, becoming acquainted with each other. When they learned Elizabeth was my cousin, they became excited.
“Did you hear about Zacharias?” A plump Rebecca asked. I realized she was the older lady who had told Jeremiah I was fine.
“I just know he can"t talk,” I answered.
“I was there that day,” she barely whispered as though to speak too loudly would make God angry.
“You were? Please tell me all about it.”
Though she had slumped over in exhaustion, Rebecca drew herself up straight and her energy appeared restored. Her face was burned a deep brown and wrinkles only added to her loveliness.
Her voice was deep and intimate as she said, “We were in prayer outside the temple of the Lord when someone noticed Zacharias had stayed in the temple much longer than normal.”
She drew in a deep breath. Letting it out, she said, “when he came out, he had the strangest look on his face you have ever seen.”
The other women in our group around the fire had already heard this story many times. However, they were attentive and quiet as she continued.
“The men in the group asked why he had remained in the temple so long and what had happened to him. He looked at them, opened his mouth to speak and do you know what happened?”
I could only shake my head.
“He couldn"t say a word.”
“Really?”
She nodded. “We didn"t know why. His face was as white as if he had seen a ghost. He tried to talk, but not a sound emerged. He looked at all of us with a very strange expression. Then turning, he walked rapidly toward his home.”
“No one has heard him speak since.” One of the other ladies remarked.
“That is strange,” I said. “Maybe an angel visited him.”
“Aw, come on.” Rebecca smiled in derision. “I"ll believe that when I see an angel myself.”
“Did you know my Cousin Elizabeth is going to have a child?” I asked quietly.
“She"s too old,” a chorus of voices stated with conviction.
“Apparently God doesn"t think so! My mother received a letter from her and she is going to have a child. She"s already carried the baby for almost six months. That"s why I"m going to visit her.”
I didn"t tell them the angel Gabriel told me that Elizabeth was with child before my Mother confirmed it.
They looked at each other in disbelief. “You don"t say? It can"t be! Why, she"s an old woman!” Their exclamations told me they weren"t sure if they should believe me or not.
“That may be, but I"m going to stay with her and help her as much as I can for the next few weeks.”
“You know,” Rebecca said, thoughtfully. “I haven"t seen her for quite some time, and she usually visits among the sick at every opportunity.”
“I haven"t seen her either,” another lady remarked.
The others shook their heads as though they hadn"t seen or heard about her either.
Our voices quieted as we heard some of the men praying. We prepared for the night.
Here in the hills, we knew it would be getting cool as night descended so we draped our heavy cloaks over us and settled down for a good night"s sleep.
At last the sounds of talk hushed and I tried to rest, but my thoughts troubled me. The sounds of camels and the occasional bleat of a goat accompanied the braying of an ass. Children turned over in their sleep, mumbling through their dreams. The almost-full moon threw shadows across the courtyard.
Looking above the walls of the caravansary, the hills held dark holes where I knew caves abounded. Silhouetted against the sky, they reminded me of the mountains so near Nazareth, where my family awaited my return.
Suddenly I was so lonely, and tears slid down my cheeks.
Restless thoughts swirled through my head like birds circling over the mountains of my homeland. I missed climbing to a special spot I loved near the foot of the mountains. I could sit and look over the landscape, down to the edges of Galilee.
Everyone appeared to be asleep.
As I looked up at the stars, the visit from Gabriel became foremost in my mind. I knew it was no dream. I knew it was real because in less than a week, I felt my body begin its change. The stars were so close I knew God was looking down, caring for the woman who would bear His child. I felt He was protecting me from any harm that might come.
And Joseph. What of Joseph? What was he going to do when I returned? Would he want me as his wife? Or would he put me away? Hide me some place until my Son was born? Or would he divorce me? According to Jewish law, he had a perfect right to divorce me, which could lead to my death by stoning.
I turned over and tried to put Joseph and my pregnancy from my mind. I finally slept for a few hours but was still exhausted when I awoke.
The early dawn found us moving over small hills and through shallow valleys. There were large and small stones hindering our progress. The camels and other animals appeared to float over the rocks with no problem.
We humans stumbled, caught ourselves and moved upright a few more feet before another boulder slowed our progress.
Sheep grazed in the hills. A shepherd sat on a promontory, a crook stuck in the ground. The staff was ready at a moment"s notice should the need arise. There were trees near us and as far as the eye could see. Again, we saw flowers of every color; red and blue and purple. The children ran to pick a handful, then brought them to their mothers, offering them as something precious indeed.
One little boy and girl brought some of these flowers to me. I clasped them to my breast, then kissed the children"s fresh, beautiful faces. I brought the flowers to my nose. The pollen made me sneeze and the children laughed. I smiled, happy to be in this place, alive with the joy of children.
The head of the caravan came back often to check on us. The women who traveled this route frequently told me it was rare for an official to look after women and children. I was grateful for the few minutes of respite and the fresh water he brought. He even stopped at a fig tree and picked ripe fruit, bringing them to us in a basket.
Juice dribbled down the children"s chins, and they laughed and wiped their faces with fat, sticky little fingers. I was grateful for each mouthful of the cool, sweet, tasty fruit.
By the end of the fourth day, I was exhausted. I felt getting up the next morning would be impossible. Yet the journey was ending and my prayers were more heartfelt than normal. As soon as our evening meal ended, I flung down my pallet and crawled onto it. I pulled my cloak over my body so the cool of night would not chill me. Even the children were tired and went right to sleep. The women were grateful that tomorrow would be the end of the journey for them, as well. We all went to sleep soon after we stopped for the night.
Early the next morning, I was awakened by sounds of a trumpet coming from afar. “It"s the sounds of Jerusalem,” the women said.
I was enthralled. To be so near Jerusalem and the end of my journey seemed impossible. But the trumpet sounds from the City of David made me know I had been right in coming to this place at this time.
“God always has a purpose,” I thought, “even if I don"t know what it is. Thank you God, for bringing me safely.”
I picked up my cloak, folded it and the pallet and prepared to move out.
The nearer we got to Jerusalem, the more people we met. Soldiers and Jews on the way to the temple, I supposed, overtook us, passed, and became little more than specks as they traveled more rapidly than our caravan.
Caravans going in the opposite direction passed with hand waves, smiles and the ever present odor of animals.
Sounds of creaking leather from saddles, and the bleating of sheep were scarcely heard.
There were so many people going in both directions, I turned my head rapidly, I became dizzy. Small groups of people moved, stirred dust, making a cloud that almost swallowed the entire human tide.
As we neared our destination, Jeremiah rode to meet us. “Mary, your father asked me to see that you were taken to your cousin"s home. Your destination is between Bethlehem and Jerusalem, so it"s just a little farther to the west. Rebecca said she and her husband know the location well. They"ll show you the way.”
“Thank you so much, sir. I appreciate all you have done for me.”
“It"s been my pleasure. If I"m anywhere around when you decide to return home, just send word to the gates of Jerusalem. The men will know where I am and will inform you of when I shall be going in the direction of your home.”
“Again, thank you.” I reached my hand to clasp his for a moment.
He wheeled his horse and was gone to speak with others and then to head the column as we came near the gate.
Rebecca, the woman who had talked of Zacharias around the campfire said, “Come, Mary. We will meet my husband at the gates. He will turn his camels over to someone else to lead. Then we shall be on our way to your Cousin Elizabeth"s.”
We met her husband and began our short journey. Her husband, a rather tall, thin individual, took such long steps I could barely keep up with him. When he saw my difficulty he slowed his pace. By now, I was so exhausted I felt this last part of the journey was the longest. He kindly offered his arm and I clung heavily.
We moved slowly as I struggled over rocks and through ruts toward the small village in the hill country of Judah. Rebecca encouraged, “just a little farther.”
Holding Rebecca"s hand, I asked, “where are those famous roads the Romans were supposed to build?”
She laughed. “Actually, they have begun the roads a little closer to Jerusalem. When you go there, you will see.”
The sun was at its highest peak when we entered the village where Zacharias and Elizabeth lived. The street was narrow and the sun reflected off the houses made from white stones. Tops of many of the houses sported roofs made from tiles. We approached the largest house and the man knocked on the street gate.
As we awaited a response to his knock, I looked around. The gate opened onto a garden where trees, flowers and shrubs bloomed in abundance. There was a fig tree near the gate, with the limbs of an apricot and almond tree peeking over the roof.
I wanted to rush through the gate and bury my nose in the fragrance. It would certainly help replace the dirt, sand and unwashed body scents that accumulated during the long journey.
The servant smiled as she opened the gate. “May I help you?” she asked. Though approximately my size and age, she greeted us more as potential friends than strangers. Her eyes crinkled at the corners as the smile seemed to encompass her entire face.
The man introduced me. “This is Mary, the cousin of Elizabeth. Would you please inform her?”
The girl nodded and turned as I heard Elizabeth speaking to someone. Her voice held a lilt I remembered from a visit she made to our home when I was a small child.
“Please ask them in, Deborah. It"s so hot, we shall give them fresh juice, then water to cleanse themselves.”
Elizabeth"s voice was low and soft, though easily heard as she approached the door leading to the garden.
“We thank you,” the man said to Deborah. “But we must get to our home.” He smiled and stepped back. “Have a good visit,” he said to me.
“Thank you so much for bringing me here,” I clung to Rebecca"s hand for a moment. “You were so good to me during the journey. I can never tell you how much I appreciate it.”
Then I turned toward the door where I beheld Elizabeth.
“Hello, Cousin Elizabeth,” I said.
The couple looked at Elizabeth and started to speak. Their words stopped as though hit by a stone wall.
Elizabeth took one look at me, swayed, then placed her hand on her stomach as though she were already caressing the baby growing there.