Daughter of Jerusalem

by Joan Wolf

  I looked around me and saw that the crowd was composed mainly of scribes and Temple priests. My hand went to my throat.

  As Jesus began to reply, someone behind me said my name. I turned and looked directly into the face of the man who had spoken.

  It was Daniel.

  The breath was knocked right out of me. After ten years, here he was—Daniel, the one I had thought lost to me forever.

  He frowned. “Are you all right? You went white as frost. Please don’t faint on me.”

  I inhaled deeply and lifted my chin. “I never faint.”

  For a long moment we stood, just looking at each other. I heard Jesus’ voice in the background, but for once I didn’t listen. Daniel said, “Let’s get away from this crowd.”

  I nodded and followed as he threaded his way through the Master’s growing audience. We found a place that was quiet and sat on an empty marble bench. I turned to look at him again.

  His youthful face had been hammered into maturity. I could see it in the set of his mouth, the look in his eyes. He wasn’t a boy any longer.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked.

  He said, “I thought I remembered how beautiful you were, but I see now that I didn’t.”

  I laughed self-consciously. “I’m a lot older now, Daniel.”

  “I knew you the moment I saw you. I didn’t even have to see your face, I knew you from the way you held your head. No other woman carries her head as proudly as you do.”

  Tears stung behind my eyes. “I thought I would never see you again. I almost don’t know what to say to you now that you’re here.”

  He gave me a crooked smile. “I feel the same.”

  “Did . . .” I bit my lip. “Did you know that I’m a widow?”

  He looked at his hands. “I heard about a year ago. We have little contact with the outside world, but someone who came through with supplies mentioned your name in connection with Jesus of Nazareth. He said you were a rich widow and one of his chief followers.”

  So he knew.

  “The report you received was correct. I am both a rich widow and a supporter of Jesus.” I repeated my earlier question: “What are you doing here? Have you left the Essenes?”

  He shook his head as if to clear it. “No, I haven’t left them. I’m here on a mission.” He shot me an ironic glance. “I was sent to discover if Jesus of Nazareth is indeed the Messiah we wait for.”

  “Ah.”

  “What do you think, Mary?”

  The sound of my name on his lips made my heart leap. I waited a moment before I answered. “There’s no question in my mind that he is the Messiah. But surely you must know about him from the Essenes. He was with you for many years.”

  He shrugged. “We have many communities scattered around the Judean desert, and he and I never met. I am at Qumran, in charge of inscribing our scriptures in Hebrew, Greek, and Aramaic. I once invited Jesus to join us, but he refused.”

  I didn’t know that. “He told me once that he admired your work tremendously.”

  Daniel’s lips tightened. “We wanted him to join us at Qumran. He knew nothing when he first came, but he amazed his teachers by how quickly he learned. They said he never forgot anything that was said to him—a precious gift for a scholar. But he refused my invitation.”

  I tried to explain. “He couldn’t join you, Daniel, because he is the Messiah. His mission is out here in the world, preaching the word of God.”

  “Or perhaps he was tired of the strictness of our lives. Monastic life and scholarship are not something many men wish to do, Mary. Walking the world amid the adulation of thousands might have seemed more attractive.”

  My back stiffened. “He does miracles! No one, no holy man or prophet before him, has done the things he has. He’s raised people from the dead, Daniel! And I have seen with my own eyes the most extraordinary healings. Yes, he is the Messiah, but he’s even more than that.” I paused, wondering if I should continue. I decided to be honest. “He’s the Son of God come to bring us back onto the true pathway to his Father in heaven.”

  Color flushed into Daniel’s face. “Son of God? How can you believe such a thing? His father was a builder, a carpenter in Nazareth. He worked with his father until he came to join us. How dare you speak such blasphemy, Mary? Jesus of Nazareth most certainly is not the Son of God!”

  “His mother says he is.”

  Daniel jumped up, paced a few feet away from me, and then swung around to come back. “Listen to me, Mary. The scriptures say the Messiah will be a great man, a man of power, of authority. A prince among men. He must be all these things if he is to defeat the forces of darkness in this world and bring us into the light. This Jesus may be a successful preacher, but he is none of those things I just mentioned. None of them!”

  I grabbed his hand and saw his eyes widen with surprise and something else I couldn’t read. His hand felt so familiar. I had a tremendous urge to hold it to my cheek, but I knew that was forbidden. I said, “Don’t judge before you hear him, Daniel. He is the light you are seeking. Just listen to him, I beg you. Don’t be like those scribes you despised when you studied in Jerusalem. Listen to him with an open mind and an open heart. Then make your decision.”

  He removed his hand from mine.

  Suddenly I felt overwhelmed. This is Daniel I am talking to. Daniel!

  He said, “That’s what I was sent here to do.”

  We were looking at each other silently when I heard a commotion coming from Solomon’s Portico. “What can be happening?” I asked nervously. “I had better get back.”

  Then I saw Lazarus running toward us. “We have to leave immediately, Mary. The priests have sent for the Temple guards to arrest our Master.”

  “Oh no!”

  “It’s all right, the disciples are getting him away. But we had better return to Bethany immediately.”

  “Yes.” Then I remembered Daniel and hurriedly introduced him to my brother.

  “You must forgive me for hastening away,” Lazarus said, “but things have gone a bit beyond our plans here.”

  “I understand,” Daniel said.

  “Where’s Martha?” I asked.

  “She’s all right, she’s with Ruth and Nathaniel, but we must leave now.”

  Lazarus put his hand under my elbow and urged me forward. I threw Daniel a quick smile and went with my brother.

  The Temple guards didn’t pursue Jesus beyond the Temple grounds, and Lazarus and I caught up with the others on the road. I walked the two miles to Bethany with my face down, my eyes trained on the road. We were almost to Bethany before I understood what the churning in my heart and stomach meant. I was angry. I was angry with Daniel. Perhaps I had been angry with him for a long time and had not recognized it.

  I needed to think about all of this. I needed to talk to the Master.

  When finally we reached the house, Ruth said she was tired and wanted to rest, and the disciples gathered in the winter room around the charcoal brazier, speaking in low voices about what had happened in the Temple. Rebecca had family in a neighboring village, and she and Peter had gone there to have their meal.

  I wrapped my cloak around my shoulders and said I was going out into the clean air of the courtyard to get the stink of Jerusalem out of my nose. Jesus, who had just come to the door, said, “I’ll go with you.”

  We went outside and sat at the courtyard table to watch the sun as it slowly sank behind the Judean hills. It was cold enough for our breath to hang in the air.

  “Lazarus said the priests called the Temple guards to arrest you,” I said. “Now you have even more enemies.”

  He said, “That’s not what has upset you.”

  I shot him a sidelong look. He seemed perfectly calm sitting there, with his hands folded before him on the table.

  I told him about meeting Daniel.

  “Ah,” he said.

  “He’s on a mission for the Essenes, to discover if you are truly the Messiah.”

 
He didn’t say anything.

  I stared at the table in front of me. “I’ve been thinking about that parable you tell about the son who took his inheritance from his father and spent it on dissolute living.”

  He was quiet.

  “After the money was gone, he was forced to go home. He asked his father to take him on as a servant, but instead his father welcomed him as if he were a prince. The father forgave him even though the son had deserted him and squandered all his money.”

  “Yes,” Jesus said. “That is what that parable is about. Forgiveness.”

  “You forgave me my sins. I told you all about them, and you forgave me.”

  “Yes, I did.”

  I said in a rush, “I thought I had forgiven those who hurt me, Master. I forgave Lord Benjamin. I forgave my father. I forgave Marcus. But . . . ”

  “But you haven’t forgiven Daniel?”

  I clenched my hand into a fist. “He should have waited for me! If I had known he was waiting, I would never have gotten involved with Marcus!”

  The words burst out before I even formed them in my mind. I listened to what I had said, and then I slid off the bench to kneel at his feet. “Tell me what I should do, Master. Tell me, how can I get rid of this anger?”

  His voice was gentle, the way it was when he spoke to children. “I know it’s hard, but you must forgive him, Mary. Daniel, Daniel’s father, your father, the Roman, they are the ones who set your feet upon the path to me.”

  I drank in his words as a person dying of thirst would drink in water.

  He continued, “The ones who cannot find forgiveness in their hearts, they’re the ones who have never truly loved. That’s not you, Mary.”

  Tears began to slide down my cheeks.

  “All your life you have been walking toward me. Forgive Daniel for abandoning you, Mary. It is you, not he, who has seen the light. Follow me with all your heart, and you will know eternal joy in my kingdom.”

  I looked at him through my tears and felt shackles loosen and fall away from my heart. He was right. All that mattered about my life was that I should be here, with him.

  In the red glow of the sun he looked suddenly weary. Then we heard Martha’s voice calling my name.

  From my position at the Master’s feet, I turned to see her coming toward us. She wasn’t even wearing a cloak in the cold winter dusk.

  “What is it?” I asked, getting to my feet. She was almost in tears and I felt a flash of alarm. “Has something happened?”

  “Yes. The girls who were going to help me with supper had to go home. Rebecca isn’t here, and Ruth has fallen asleep, and I dropped my favorite pot on the floor.” She gulped like a child. “The men are hungry, and I don’t see how I’m going to make supper all by myself.” She looked at Jesus. “Mary must help me, Master, or the supper will never be ready in time.”

  He gave her the smile he reserved only for her. “Martha, Martha. The food you are cooking is good for the body, but the food Mary seeks is good for the soul. Do not be so anxious. The supper will get done.”

  I rose to my feet. “Of course it will, and I will help you, Martha.”

  “Thank you.” Her voice was watery.

  I grinned. “You must be desperate if you came seeking me.”

  She managed a chuckle.

  “Come along.” I put my hand on her elbow and walked her back to the house.

  We got the supper on the table, and after we had eaten, I retired to the chamber I shared with Martha, Rebecca, and Ruth. I curled up under my cloak and blanket and closed my eyes, bringing back the day when I had felt such perfect union with Jesus, the day I realized who he really was. The room was quiet, and I lay still, all my concentration on my inward being.

  I am the light of the world. Follow me with all your heart, and you will know eternal joy.

  How could I continue to be angry with the people who had put my feet on the path to Jesus? Instead of anger I should feel sorrow for them, for the blindness that kept them from knowing the perfect joy of oneness with God.

  Poor Marcus. He had loved me, but he had been born into an immoral society, and there was no one to show him the true path. I certainly hadn’t done so. Instead, I had taken up his ways, and then I’d rejected him when he committed what he thought of as an act of love. Even the loss of my baby . . . if my child had lived, I would have married Marcus. Tears trickled from my eyes. The greatest loss I’d ever known had brought me to the greatest joy.

  Forgiving Daniel was harder. I had truly thought our love would last forever. During the time I had spent in Bethany after leaving Sepphoris, I believed he would come to me. But his ardent spirit had found a resting place with the Essenes, and that betrayal had made me angry. I had buried it deep. But when he acknowledged that he had known I was a widow, that anger surged to the surface.

  Daniel had rejected me.

  I thought again of the Master’s words. How could I regret anything that had happened in my past? It had all led me to the greatest experience a person could have. My soul had been opened to the Infinite. I was a disciple of the Son of God.

  I whispered into the darkness: I forgive you, Lord Benjamin. I forgive you, Father. I forgive you, Marcus. And Daniel—I forgive you, and I love you. I will pray that you see the truth about Jesus and come to know him as the Messiah.

  I listened. The room was silent, but I felt a presence. I could see no one, but the presence was stronger because it was unseen. I had no doubt that God was in the room with me.

  I whispered, “I will take care of Your Son.”

  The presence remained, and I fell asleep.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  The following morning Lazarus and I went into Jerusalem while Jesus remained in Bethany. Lazarus was friendly with a Pharisee who, even though he was a member of the Sanhedrin, was also a secret follower of the Master. His name was Nicodemus, and he would know whether or not it was safe for Jesus to return to Jerusalem.

  I accompanied Lazarus because I wanted to see Daniel again. I hoped to convince him to give up his dream of an earthly prince and see Jesus for who he truly was—the Messiah, the Son of God.

  I saw Daniel as soon as we walked into the Court of the Women, and I knew he was waiting for me. Lazarus brought me over and said to him, “I’m going to the Court of the Priests to see if I can find my friend. Will my sister be all right with you?”

  “She’ll be safe with me,” Daniel promised.

  We watched as Lazarus passed through the Nicanor Gate, and then Daniel turned to me. “Did your friends tell you the reason why the priests tried to arrest Jesus yesterday? He not only said he was the Messiah, he proclaimed that he was the Son of God. The Son of God! How can you believe this nonsense, Mary? This man doesn’t come from God. He’s a madman.”

  “He speaks the truth, Daniel.” I struggled to remain calm and sensible. “You don’t know him, and it’s necessary to spend time with him to understand. You haven’t learned the truths he’s brought to us.”

  “We already have the truth! I copy it every day in my scriptorium.”

  We were standing along the wall to the right of the Nicanor Gate, facing each other like adversaries. “I know our scripture is true,” I told him, “but we have forgotten its most important lessons. Why else did you leave the Temple and become an Essene? You were revolted by what our religion has turned into—our lives are bound by an endless number of man-made rules, and we worship by the mindless slaughter of animals. Jesus only wants what our scriptures tell us the Lord wants—that we should love Him and love one another.”

  “That is what we Essenes believe. Jesus was with us once, but he left for an easier life.”

  I felt my temper begin to rise. “An easier life? He owns his sandals, his cloak, and his robe. He has nothing more, he wants nothing more—he needs nothing more. He’s an example to us all of how unimportant the things of this world are.”

  “It’s a good thing he has you then, to pay for his food and lodging,” Daniel sho
t back.

  Now I was really angry. I put up my chin. “It’s my honor to help him. He turns away nobody, Daniel. Nobody. He shares himself with the destitute, the defiled, the despised, the unclean. He preaches love and forgiveness. What can be wrong with such a message?”

  A man had come up behind Daniel while I was talking, and from his clothing I guessed he was also an Essene. The newcomer curled his lip in scorn. “Jesus of Nazareth is unclean. I’ve heard he doesn’t even wash his hands before he eats.” He put a hand on Daniel’s shoulder and directed his next remarks to him. “He also consorts with women, my brother. Like this one.” Another scornful look came my way. “She has no husband, and she follows an unmarried man around the countryside like a . . . a wanton. Look at her, here today with no man as her escort!”

  Daniel flushed. “Watch your tongue, Ezra. Mary is a good woman.”

  I glared at this Ezra. “I am a good woman, and Jesus of Nazareth is the only man I’ve ever met who believes that women are just as capable of being holy as men. All other Jewish men think we are unclean and stupid.”

  “I never thought you were unclean or stupid!” Daniel said.

  I continued to glare at Ezra. “Jesus doesn’t think people are unclean because they’re ill or lame or because of what they eat. They’re unclean because of the filth of greed and hypocrisy and bigotry that’s inside them.”

  Ezra glared back, but Daniel held up his hand to stop his friend from answering. In a milder voice he said, “I agree that much of what he says is true. We Essenes do not believe in animal sacrifice, and we believe that what’s on the inside of a man is more important than what’s on the outside. In many ways Jesus is in the tradition of our prophets, who came to remind us of our duty to the Lord. But he’s not content to say he’s a prophet, Mary. He says he’s the Messiah. Even worse, he says he’s the Son of God. That is blasphemy. A blasphemer cannot be the Messiah.”