Mary of Nazareth

by Marek Halter

  “My daughter, my daughter!”

  Mumbling with happiness, he tried to hug her, but the pain in his shoulders was too great, and he groaned.

  The women rushed out to announce the good news. The whole village came running. At last, they could see the eyes of this man who had survived the cross, hear his laughter and gentle words.

  “Miriam, my angel. It’s as if I’ve come back to life! May the Lord be thanked for giving me such a daughter.”

  Miriam dismissed this praise, pointing out to her father that everyone had contributed to his recovery.

  Moved, Joachim looked at the rough, joyful faces around him. “You may not believe this,” he stammered, “but while I was asleep, I saw Miriam by my side. I remember it very well. She was standing there, not very far from me. And I could see myself, too. I was in a terrible state, because I’d fallen off the cross and had broken in pieces. One arm here, the other there. My legs were out of reach. Only my head and heart were working as they should. And I had to keep holding the different pieces of me to stop them moving away. But I was so exhausted that all I really wanted to do was close my eyes and let my arms and legs go wherever they liked. Except that Miriam was there, behind me, stopping me from yielding to the temptation.”

  They were all listening, openmouthed. Joachim paused for breath, blinked, and went on. “She kept saying, ‘Come on, Father, come on! Keep your eyes wide open.’ You know, in that not very pleasant tone she has sometimes, very bossy and confident for a girl of her age.”

  Everyone laughed, Barabbas nodded vigorously, and Miriam blushed to the roots of her hair.

  “Yes, she kept telling me off,” Joachim continued, his voice quivering with tenderness. “ ‘Come on, Father, just a little more effort! Don’t give the tax collectors that pleasure! You need your arms and legs if you want to get back to Nazareth. Come on! Come on, I’m waiting!’ And now, here I am, back with you and able to thank you.”

  THE following day at dawn, when Joachim woke after a short night’s sleep, he found Barabbas and Obadiah beside him. Miriam was sleeping in the women’s room.

  “She looks as if she’s out for a whole year,” Obadiah chuckled.

  Joachim nodded and looked at the boy’s strange face. “Was it you who took me down from the cross? I have a vague memory of it, but it was quite dark.”

  “Yes, it was me.”

  “To tell the truth, when I saw you, I thought a demon had come to take me to hell.”

  “The reason you don’t recognize me,” Obadiah said, with a shrug, “is because the women washed me and gave me clean clothes.”

  Barabbas laughed heartily. “That’s the greatest humiliation Obadiah’s ever suffered. He misses his dirt. It’s going to take him weeks and months to look like himself again.”

  “Cleanliness suits you, my boy,” Joachim said, gently. “You ought to be pleased.”

  Obadiah made a face. “That’s what Miriam says too. But none of you know what you’re talking about. In towns, if we’re like other boys, people aren’t afraid of us, and they don’t take pity on us either. Tomorrow, before I leave for Tarichea, I’ll put on my am ha’aretz rags again, that’s for sure.”

  Joachim frowned. “Tarichea? What do you want to go there for?”

  “To find out what Herod’s mercenaries are up to—”

  “But it’s much too soon!”

  “No,” Barabbas said. “It’s been six days. I want to know what’s going on in Tarichea. Obadiah will go there and keep his ears open. He’s good at that kind of thing. He’ll leave tomorrow with one of the fishermen.”

  Joachim refrained from protesting. But his stomach felt tight with fear. The violence and hatred of the mercenaries had left as indelible a mark on his mind as on his body. But Barabbas was right. He himself would have given a lot to have news of his wife, Hannah. He would also have liked to know if the tax collectors, in revenge for his escape, had inflicted on Nazareth the suffering he had just evaded.

  If that was the case, he would have to give himself up and go back to prison in Tarichea. But that was something he could not tell Barabbas, let alone Miriam.

  “Don’t go yet,” he said, squeezing Obadiah’s small hands. “I think I promised you something when you were taking me away from the field of crosses, and I hate not keeping my promises.”

  FIVE days later, leaning on Miriam’s shoulder, Joachim was trying out the use of his legs when Obadiah appeared. He leaped out of the boat before it touched shore, his face transfigured with excitement.

  “We’re all that people are talking about!” he cried, before he had even had time to drink a cup of grape juice. “We’re the one topic of conversation. ‘Barabbas saved some people from the cross.’ ‘Barabbas humiliated Herod’s mercenaries.’ ‘Barabbas cocked a snook at the Romans…’ Anyone would think you’d become the Messiah!”

  There was more affection than mockery in Obadiah’s laughter, but Barabbas remained serious. “What about the fishermen? Did they have any trouble?”

  “Quite the contrary. They did as they said they would. They arrived in Tarichea with boats so full, the wind could hardly carry them. A truly miraculous catch. They were very angry at us for burning their boats and their market, just like the people of Tarichea. Everyone said we were ruffians, vandals, the shame of Galilee…Nice things like that. By the end of it, the mercenaries and the Romans were convinced we did it all by ourselves. Now, people are laughing behind their backs. Everyone’s happy to have fooled them.”

  This time, Barabbas relaxed, and Miriam stroked Obadiah’s tangled hair.

  “And did you manage to restrain yourself?” Barabbas asked, gently mocking. “Or did you tell everyone that you were the best friend of the great Barabbas?”

  “There was no need.” Obadiah chuckled proudly. “They guessed anyway. I’ve never before had so much of what I wanted. I could have brought back a boatful.”

  “And gotten yourself denounced!” Joachim snorted.

  “Don’t worry, Joachim! I can spot informers a mile away. No one knew where I was sleeping or when they were going to see me. But did you know you’re famous, too? Everyone knows your story. Joachim of Nazareth, the man who dared to stick a spear in the belly of a tax collector and then escaped from the cross….”

  “It wasn’t the belly, it was the shoulder,” Joachim muttered testily. “And I don’t think it’s such a good thing that everyone’s talking about me. What about news from Nazareth? Do you have any?”

  Obadiah shook his head. “No, I didn’t have time to go there….”

  Joachim looked at Barabbas, then at Miriam. “I’m worried for them. The mercenaries don’t know where to find us, but they know who to harm.”

  “I could go,” Miriam said, “at least to see Mother and reassure her.”

  “No, not you,” Obadiah protested. “Me. I’ll go whenever you like.”

  “Unless we all go together,” Barabbas said pensively. “Now that Joachim can walk, we can move about as we like.”

  They all stared at him in astonishment.

  “Isn’t there anywhere safe in the village where we could stay?” he asked Joachim and Miriam.

  Joachim shook his head. “No, no, it would be madness—”

  “Yes, Father!” Miriam exclaimed. “Yossef and Halva will take us in without hesitation!”

  “You don’t realize the danger, my girl.”

  “I’m certain Yossef will be proud to help you. He knows how much he owes you. He loves you. Their house is quite a distance from the village anyway, at the far end of the valley. We can’t be taken by surprise there.”

  “We’ll keep a lookout, Joachim,” Obadiah said. “On the way, I’ll round up my friends. We’ll all be there. You’ll see, no one will be able to approach Yossef’s house without our knowing it. Ask Miriam—we’re the ones who keep guard on Barabbas’s hiding places, so we know what to do.”

  Miriam smiled at the memory of her welcome in Sepphoris, but Joachim could not be persuaded.
His refusal disappointed Barabbas and marred Obadiah’s joy.

  IT was only in the evening, after a long silence, that Miriam said softly to her father, “I know you’re very worried about Mother. You want to hold her in your arms, and so do I. Let’s go to Yossef and Halva’s house, even if it’s only for a short time. Then we’ll decide.”

  “Decide what, Daughter? You know perfectly well I’ll never be able to go back to my workshop and build another roof with Lysanias—if he’s still alive, please God!”

  “That’s true,” Barabbas muttered. “Now you’re in the same boat as me. Forget your roof, Joachim. There’s something else that needs building now. The rebellion of the Galileans against Herod.”

  “Is that all?”

  “You heard Obadiah. Everyone’s happy that we got the better of Herod’s mercenaries and the vultures of the Sanhedrin. Look around you, Joachim. The inhabitants of this village all made an effort to cure you because you’d been on the cross, and they knew how unjust that was. The fisherman who helped us refused a gold purse. For him, it was enough to have fought at our side. These are signs. We showed the people of Galilee that the mercenaries are only fools. We must continue. And on a large scale, to overcome the people’s fear!”

  “Hold on a second. You’re going to do all that with fifty companions and a few children, are you?”

  “No. We’re going to do all that by drawing in all those who can’t stand it anymore. Showing them what we can do. We took you down from the cross, you and those other poor wretches. We can do it elsewhere, even in Jerusalem. We can harass the mercenaries. We can fight and show that we’re winning….”

  Joachim made a bitter grimace. “Barabbas, you’re talking about a rebellion as if it’s a fit of anger. Do you think that I, or the many others who think like me, have never thought about this?”

  Barabbas smiled broadly. “You see, you just said it yourself: There are many others who can’t stand Herod anymore.”

  “Yes, I do know some, it’s true. But don’t think they’ll follow you. They’re wise men, not fools.”

  “Your daughter turned to a fool to save you, Joachim, not to your wise friends.”

  Joachim was starting to get annoyed. “If a rebellion isn’t supported by the whole country, it only leads to wholesale slaughter. Herod can hit hard, and he can hit fast. The Sanhedrin is under his thumb and has the rabbis on its side. That makes it not quite as dangerous as Herod, but just as effective.”

  “Always the same excuse,” Barabbas grumbled. “A coward’s excuse.”

  “Don’t say such things! It takes as much courage to endure injustice as to fight in vain. And even if you managed to stir up Galilee, it wouldn’t lead anywhere. You’d have to stir up Jerusalem, Judea, the whole of Israel.”

  “Let’s go, then, let’s not waste any more time!”

  “Barabbas isn’t completely wrong, Father,” Miriam said calmly. “What’s the point of waiting for the mercenaries to strike again? Or for the tax collectors to pay us another visit? Why always let ourselves be humiliated? What benefit can come of it?”

  “Ah, so now you think like him, do you?”

  “What he says is true. People are tired of submitting. And proud that you didn’t let the tax collectors steal Houlda’s candlestick. Your courage is an example to them.”

  “An example as useless as a fit of anger, you ought to say.”

  “Don’t make yourself weaker than you are, Joachim.” Barabbas grunted. “Invite your wise men to your friend Yossef’s house. Obadiah can take them the message. And let me talk to them. Where’s the risk in that?”

  Joachim looked at Miriam, who nodded.

  “What’s the point of almost dying on the cross, Father, if it serves no purpose? Simply to hide in Galilee, all our lives, for nothing! It is we who decide if we are powerless before the king. To believe that his mercenaries are always stronger than us is to give him a reason to despise us.”

  CHAPTER 5

  THEY had taken a long, roundabout route along the foot of Mount Tabor, avoiding the more frequented paths and bypassing Nazareth. Now it was agreed that Miriam would go ahead to inform Halva and Yossef.

  On the winding path, lined with acacias and carob trees, leading to the crest of the hill, she walked so quickly that her feet barely touched the ground. As she approached the summit, there were more gaps in the hedges, and she saw the citron orchards, the little vineyard, and the two great plane trees surrounding Yossef’s house. Without her even being aware of it, her face lit up in a broad smile.

  Hearing bleating, she looked up. A flock of sheep and lambs was wandering in the field overlooking the path. She was about to turn away and run to the house when she glimpsed a figure amid the caper shrubs and the broom. She recognized the bright tunic, with its pretty blue and ocher embroidery, and the mane of wavy hair. “Halva! Halva!” she cried.

  Startled, Halva stopped dead, and shaded her eyes from the sun to make out who this person could be who was running toward her.

  “Miriam…God Almighty! Miriam!” She burst into both laughter and tears. “You’re alive!”

  “So is my father…We saved him.”

  “I know, Yossef told me. He heard about it in the synagogue, but I didn’t dare believe it!”

  “It’s wonderful to see you!”

  There were cries from beneath their feet. Halva broke free of Miriam. “Shimon, my little angel, you’re not jealous of Miriam, are you?”

  The little boy, barely two years old, fell silent and stared at Miriam openmouthed, with an extremely serious expression on his face. Suddenly, his big, sparkling brown eyes opened wide, and he held out his arms, babbling urgently.

  “I think he recognizes me, don’t you?” Miriam cried in delight. She laughed and bent down to pick him up. When she straightened up, she saw Halva looking pale and unsteady, with her hand over her mouth. “Halva! What’s the matter?”

  Breathing heavily, Halva tried to smile, and leaned on Miriam’s shoulder. “It’s nothing,” she said in a toneless voice. “A dizzy spell. It’ll pass.”

  “Are you ill?”

  “No, no!” Halva regained her breath, and gently massaged her temples. “It’s happened a few times since Libna was born. Don’t worry. Come, let’s go tell Yossef! He’ll jump for joy when he sees you.”

  THE reunion continued the rest of that beautiful day. Yossef did not have the patience to wait for Joachim. As soon as he saw his friend’s tall figure coming along the path, he rushed to him, and hugged and kissed him, thanking the Almighty between his tears and laughter.

  He was hardly less effusive in greeting Barabbas and Obadiah. Of course, they could all stay in his house, he cried as they came into the yard. There was plenty of room for everyone. Hadn’t he followed Joachim’s advice and built a secluded, almost secret room behind his workshop? They could put mats on the floor in there for Joachim and his companions. Miriam could sleep in the children’s room.

  They sat down around a table in the gentle shade of the plane trees that protected the house on the hottest days.

  “There’s no danger here,” Yossef said. “No one will ever suspect you’re in my house. And anyway, there are no mercenaries in Nazareth anymore.”

  Helped by Miriam, who swore that she was not at all tired, Halva brought drink and enough food to satisfy their appetites, which had been sharpened by the long walk. Obadiah attacked the drink eagerly but merely nibbled at the food. Knowing how impatient Joachim and Miriam were, he offered to go, as discreetly as possible, and tell Hannah that they had arrived. Joachim gave him instructions on how to get to the workshop and the house without being seen by the neighbors, and once the boy had set off, running like a fox, Yossef continued with his account of what had been happening in the village.

  As was to be expected, the tax collectors had returned to Nazareth after Joachim’s arrest.

  “Would you believe it, Joachim? The one you wounded was there. He had his arm in a sling, but even so, it had only tak
en him four days to recover!”

  “I’m really useless, aren’t I?” Joachim said, amused. “My aim obviously wasn’t as true as I thought!”

  Yossef and Barabbas laughed. “That’s for sure!”

  This time, the tax collectors had been accompanied by three Roman officers and a cohort of mercenaries. They had behaved roughly, but no worse than usual.

  “They just wanted to enjoy telling us you were going to die on the cross,” Yossef said, squeezing Joachim’s shoulder. “They repeated it so many times, everyone ended up believing it. Your poor Hannah was in floods of tears, moaning that the Almighty had abandoned her, that she’d lost her husband and daughter!”

  He grimaced at the memory. Hannah’s despair had been so extreme that Halva had stayed with her for a few days, but she had been unable to console or reassure her. They had even feared that Hannah would lose her mind.

  Yossef turned to Miriam. “But I knew you’d manage somehow to prove those vultures wrong. The only thing that worried me was that the mercenaries might guess you’d left the village to rescue your father.”

  “Hah!” Barabbas snorted contemptuously. “The Romans and the mercenaries are so sure of their strength, they don’t have any imagination. Besides, they don’t even understand our language.”

  “That may be true of them,” Yossef said. “But the tax collectors are clever. They may despise our Galilean accent, but their ears are as sharp as their hands are greedy. That’s why I went to the synagogue and told everyone to keep their mouths shut. But you know how it is, Joachim. There are always people who can’t be trusted.”

  The one good thing that had come out of this misfortune was that the tax collectors’ hunger for revenge had merely increased the villagers’ anger and overcome their differences of opinion.

  “They bled us white,” Yossef said with a sigh. “We have barely enough left to keep us going until the next harvest.”

  The tax collectors had taken away all they could, emptying the cellars and haylofts of all the sacks and jars they found, and ordering the mercenaries to pile the carts so high that the mules could barely pull them.