She blinked back tears. A pity women were not allowed to study the Torah, to spend hours discussing the Law and the Prophets. She could drink in only what she heard from the women’s gallery as the Torah was read. She could listen and savor only what Joseph read from the scrolls passed down to him through the line of David.
There was so much she didn’t know, so much she didn’t understand.
“Mary?” She felt Joseph’s hand upon her shoulder. She put her hand over his, struggling against the tears that still threatened. Perhaps she was just too weary. “What troubles you, my love?” He sat on the bench beside her.
She swallowed, trying to find words. “So many things, Joseph.” She bowed her head. She looked up at him. “I was so proud of my son today. He read so well. All the women said so.” Even some of the ones who had whispered against her. “And the rabbi was smiling and . . .” The same rabbi who had wanted Jesus expelled from the synagogue.
Joseph brushed a tear from her cheek. He said nothing, waiting patiently for her to speak her heart. He was so dear to her. She could speak freely with her husband. Perhaps he could unravel the emotions tormenting her, the niggling sense that something was wrong, something just beyond her understanding. “I know everything will happen in God’s time, Joseph,” she said quietly, “but sometimes I wish the time was now.” She gazed at the stars. “Moses was eighty years old when the Lord called him out of the desert and told him to stand before Pharaoh.” She looked down at her clasped hands, swallowing before she dared trust her voice to speak again. “His mother would have been long dead by that time.”
“Are you afraid you won’t live long enough to see Jesus come into his kingdom?”
“Is it wrong for me to want to see him in his rightful place?” She remembered Jesus’ expression when he had looked up at her in the women’s gallery. She felt again the flush of heat into her cheeks. Why should she be ashamed? Why shouldn’t she be proud of her son? “Everyone in Israel longs for the Messiah to come and make all things right, Joseph. King David wrote that the Lord would summon the earth from the rising of the sun to its setting, and out of Zion, judge the people. Doesn’t it say we will never have to be afraid of the terrors of the night or the dangers of the day or the plague that stalks in darkness? We will see how the wicked are punished.” The Romans, the tax collectors, the Pharisees and scribes who piled more laws upon the backs of God’s people until they felt crushed by the weight of them.
“Mary,” Joseph said gently, “there are many Scriptures about the Messiah.”
“David was a boy when God anointed him king.”
“Jesus is more than a king.”
“I’m his mother, Joseph. I know that better than you.”
“Yes, my love. But think on this. Would the Lord come to judge the world before he made a way for us to be freed from the consequences of sin?”
“There is the Law, the sacrifices . . .”
“Perhaps you feel cleansed of all sin, Mary, but I never have. Who can stand before the Lord on the Day of Judgment and not fall short of his perfect goodness?”
“We obey.”
“With every breath? With every thought?” Joseph shook his head sadly. “Sometimes I think God gave us the Law just to show us how wicked we are. Every day, I hear men pray for the Messiah to come. But they pray for him to bring a sword to slaughter the Romans, a sword to drive every foreigner from our land.” He looked into her eyes. “They pray to be vindicated for the hurt done to them. They long to see retribution.” He brushed his knuckles softly against the curve of her cheek, his eyes tender. “Is it justice they want—or revenge? It’s not judgment I long for, but a return to the relationship Adam had with the Lord in the Garden of Eden.”
“Jesus will see that we have that, Joseph. And one day James and little Joseph will take their rightful places beside him.” When Joseph said nothing to that, she peered up at him in the gathering darkness, anger stirring inside her. Surely he wanted the same things she did: Jesus on the throne, their sons beside him. “You know as well as I do that Jesus is the Messiah.”
“Yes,” Joseph said softly, “I know. But as you have often reminded me, God never does anything the way his people expect.”
His words and manner troubled her. “Are you not impatient to see the promise fulfilled?” Why wouldn’t he speak? Why did he look so pensive? “I have listened closely all these years from the women’s gallery, Joseph. And I’ve listened to you as you’ve read the Scriptures to Jesus. What have we to fear? Moses said the Lord is a warrior, and the prophet Daniel said everything will be given to him. Jesus will have power, honor, and a kingdom. All nations, people of every language, will serve him, and his kingship will be an everlasting one that won’t pass away. His kingdom will never be destroyed. I can only wish it would happen now!”
Joseph took her hand and held it between his own. “Daniel also said that the Son of Man would appear to have accomplished nothing.”
She searched his eyes in the dimming light. “I don’t understand.”
“Nor do I, Mary, but Isaiah said the Messiah would be a man of sorrows, acquainted with the bitterest grief.”
“No.” Ever since the day the Lord had overshadowed her, Mary had faced rejection. Surely this would not happen to Jesus. Surely all things would be made known. The truth would finally be made clear for all to see. She turned toward Joseph and grasped both of his hands tightly. “No one will reject Jesus. He is so good, Joseph! So full of love for others. How could people not rejoice over him? When the time comes, the Lord will make it known to everyone that Jesus is the one we’ve been waiting for all these centuries. And Jesus will reveal himself to the nations.”
“Mary, have you forgotten that God revealed himself to the nations when he delivered his people out of Egypt? And what happened? The entire generation of Israelites who crossed the Red Sea on dry land died in the wilderness because they rejected him.”
“It won’t be that way this time. I understand better than you, Joseph. I am his mother!”
“Yes, Mary, you are his mother. But it is his Father who will prevail.”
She drew back from him. “Don’t tell me the Lord would send his Son into the world to be rejected! Does that make sense?” The words Simeon had spoken in the Temple came unwelcomed into her mind: “And a sword will pierce your very soul.” She stood and moved away. “No.” She wrapped her arms around herself, chilled by the thought. She shook her head. “God is merciful.”
“Do you want mercy for all those who said you lied about how Jesus was conceived? Will you plead mercy for those who wanted to stone you? Is it mercy you want, Mary . . . or vindication?”
His words cut deeply, but she knew he hadn’t spoken in order to hurt her. Only to make her think more deeply. She put her hand over her trembling mouth. What did she want? For people to see the truth and be sorry for the pain they’d caused her and her family? Was it wrong for her to want to see Jesus end oppression and sorrow? Was it wrong to want everyone in Nazareth to know she had spoken the truth, that God had chosen her to give birth to the Messiah, that Jesus was born of God and would one day rule in righteousness and majesty? She wanted to see the Day of the Lord! She wanted to see God’s Anointed One on the throne! Tears blinded her. She wanted the world to be right again, the way it had been in the Garden of Eden.
Joseph rose and came to her. He took her hand and kissed the palm. He brushed the tears from her cheeks. “Somehow the Lord will bring mercy and justice together, Mary. I don’t know how, but it will happen through Jesus. And the cost will be higher than anyone realizes.”
“People will die,” she said in quiet anguish. Whenever God disciplined his people, thousands fell.
“People have been dying since Adam sinned, Mary. I mean the cost of obedience. We know Jesus is the Messiah. But that’s all we know. Not when or how he’ll come into power, or who will stand beside him. God’s plan is a great mystery. But I know this: All the faithful men and women before us longed for
this day, and we are seeing the Son of Man grow up. But still, like them, we have to wait for the Lord. We have to trust him no matter what happens, no matter how things look.” His voice broke. “This is what I see Jesus doing, from the moment he gets up in the morning until he lies down at night. Everything in him is fixed upon pleasing his Father.”
Mary could see the sheen of tears in Joseph’s eyes. “You’re afraid for him, aren’t you? You needn’t be. God will protect him.”
Joseph drew her into his arms and held her close. “Elijah is the only prophet who made it out of this world alive.”
* * *
Mary watched Joseph lead Jesus, James, and young Joseph away while she took Anne’s hand and headed for the women’s court. They had come to Jerusalem to celebrate the Passover, as they had done every year since returning from Egypt. Today was the beginning of the celebration of how God had passed over the Jewish people and killed the Egyptian firstborns. Today was the beginning of the celebration of deliverance, of the Jewish people’s liberation from slavery.
On the way back to the home of their relative Abijah, with whom they were staying, Mary saw the Roman soldiers marching through the streets and heard the grumbling of those around her. “Someday the Messiah will come and rout these filthy Roman pigs! He will be a king greater than Solomon, and all nations will bow down to him.”
She and the other women in the household prepared the matzoh shmurah—the round, hard unleavened bread—for the Passover feast. They ground the horseradish and washed the parsley. They chopped fruits and nuts and mixed in spices and wine to make a pungent, rough paste.
And when they all sat on mats and reclined for the meal, it was Abijah who led the ceremonial meal. He was the younger brother of their relative Zechariah, who had recently died, as had Zechariah’s beloved wife, Elizabeth. Mary wondered what had become of the couple’s son, John. When Mary had visited Elizabeth soon after learning that she herself was pregnant with Jesus, Elizabeth’s child had leaped within his mother’s womb. Before Mary left for home, Elizabeth had leaned close and whispered, “When the time is right, my son shall announce to Israel that the Messiah has come.”
Mary had been told that a member of the monastic order called the Essenes had come and taken John to their home in the cliffs above the Salt Sea. John had not been seen or heard from since. If he came to Passover each year with the Essenes, he made no attempt to find his relatives. Sometimes Mary would see a group of men, dusty from travel, emaciated from a life of self-denial. The orphan boys they tended were healthier than their benefactors, but she never saw one that resembled Elizabeth or Zechariah.
Had the Lord sent John into hiding just as he had sent Jesus to Egypt? Someday, John would appear again. And when he did, the Day of the Lord would be at hand. For surely God’s hand was upon him, as his hand was upon Jesus. Someday John would herald Jesus’ reign, just as Elizabeth had foretold.
Mary focused her mind on the Passover as Abijah’s wife lit the candles, beginning the meal and providing light to the gathering. Abijah held up a cup of wine, and all gathered did likewise, as the venerable patriarch began the ritual prayers.
“Blessed art thou, O Lord God of Israel, king of the universe who has sanctified us with thy commandments and delivered us from Egypt. . . .”
At the appointed time, the youngest child, Abijah’s granddaughter Leah, asked why there was an empty seat at the table. “We have left a place for Elijah,” Abijah told her, “for the prophet Malachi said God would send the prophet Elijah before the great and dreadful Day of the Lord arrives. Go and see if he is at the door.” The child jumped up and ran to search for Elijah.
Mary’s heart drummed as she looked at Jesus reclining at the table, flanked by his cousins. The rabbis said the Messiah would come at Passover. And she knew the Messiah was at this table. She turned and watched the door, wondering if this would be the night John would appear and proclaim Jesus’ identity to all.
The child returned. “Elijah isn’t here, Grandfather.”
Abijah raised his cup. “Next year, in Jerusalem!”
* * *
Joseph saw the hope in Mary’s face as she watched young Leah go and look for Elijah. And he saw the question in her eyes when the child returned and said Elijah wasn’t there. He listened to the conversations around him as those present spoke with longing of the coming Messiah-king who would crush the evil from their midst and deliver the people from their bondage.
When he looked at Jesus, his throat closed, for each year the Scriptures from Isaiah came swiftly to mind. Sometimes Joseph wondered if Mary was like the rest—expecting the Messiah to come in power as David had and slaughter the enemies of God.
The rabbis said the Messiah would come at Passover. The Scriptures said the Messiah would be born of a virgin and would rise up to crush the head of the serpent, Satan. But what did it mean? How would it happen? Why this pain whenever he partook of the Passover feast? The answer was just beyond his reach, beyond his comprehension. Could anyone understand what God planned for mankind? But Joseph knew one thing without question: The Messiah is here! He is at this seder! He is at this table! The one who would deliver us is eating of the lamb that was offered in sacrifice for the atonement of our sins! He is eating the unleavened bread and drinking the wine!
No one realized. Everyone looked at Jesus and saw a twelve-year-old boy like any other, studying the Torah, working beside his father, growing up under the heel of Rome.
Jesus. Messiah. God with us.
Every year Joseph remembered the angel’s words as though he had heard them just yesterday. He would shiver in awareness, and again it would strike him as the eight-day celebration progressed without John’s appearing at the door. Passover was about a lamb sacrificed, a lamb whose blood marked for salvation those who believed what God said he would do. The lamb . . . the bloodred wine . . . the unleavened bread. His heart ached.
Jesus raised his eyes and looked into Joseph’s, and for the briefest moment, Joseph imagined the boy slain. Shuddering, he closed his eyes and swallowed the anguish that welled up inside him as love for the boy gripped him. Oh, Lord God . . . Oh, Lord, Lord . . .
The meal passed in a mood of reverent celebration, and then Abijah brought out the hidden matzoh and removed the linen wrapping. He broke off a piece and passed it so that all could partake of it. As Joseph ate the morsel of unleavened bread, he wondered when the rest of the people would know what he and Mary had known for twelve years.
The Messiah is here! God is with us! Someday soon, he will set the captives free!
* * *
Mary walked with the women when they set off for home. Traveling with family members in a large caravan provided safety as well as camaraderie. James and Joseph ran ahead with the other boys. She hadn’t seen Jesus all morning, but supposed he was with his cousins. She had given him freedom to wander Jerusalem with them over the past week and saw no reason to rein him in now that they were on the journey home. He had never given her cause to worry, and she was at ease as she visited with her relatives from Galilee. It would be another year before they saw one another again, and she wanted to enjoy their company while she could.
When they reached the Jewish estate a day out of Jerusalem, Mary didn’t see Jesus among her nephews. “Have you seen Jesus?”
“Not since yesterday.”
She went cold. “Yesterday? You mean he hasn’t been with you all day?”
“No. He went off by himself and we haven’t seen him since. Isn’t he with Joseph?”
Mary raced off to talk with her husband, but found that Joseph hadn’t seen him all day either. “James! Joseph!” She questioned her younger sons when they came running, but they didn’t know where Jesus was either. “Oh, Joseph! He’s never done anything like this before! Where could he be?”
“He must be in Jerusalem.”
“Something must have happened to him! Oh, Joseph! Why didn’t I keep better watch?” She saw the lines in Joseph’s face deepen and
knew he was as worried as she was. They went to her sister, Mary, and her husband and asked if they would watch over the other children while they went back to search for Jesus. They agreed readily, promising to keep James, Joseph, and Anne with them until Mary and Joseph and Jesus rejoined them.
“Jesus probably got caught up in the excitement of Jerusalem, Mary,” her sister said. “He’s probably on the road right now and will catch up with us by morning.”
Mary spent a fretful night, sitting up each time she heard a noise. “Jesus?” Joseph slept no better than she did and was up before dawn, awakening Clopas to inform him they were leaving and the children knew to go with their uncle.
“Don’t spare the rod when you find him,” Clopas called after them.
They reached Jerusalem as the sun was setting, and entered the city before the gates were closed. They went straight to Abijah’s house, hoping to find Jesus there. When they didn’t, Mary wept, pleading that they begin searching the city right away.
“You won’t find him at this hour,” Abijah said. “And if you go out now, you’ll end up being questioned by Roman soldiers.”
“How can I rest when my son is missing?” Mary covered her face. “What could have happened to him?”
Joseph put his arms around her. “We’ll start searching first thing in the morning.”
She collapsed against him. “How could I have allowed this to happen?”
“Don’t be afraid, my love. The Lord’s hand is upon the boy.”
She knew Joseph was right. All the things she had expected to happen hadn’t. Why wasn’t it more comfort? Simeon’s words at the Temple came back to haunt her: “And a sword will pierce your very soul.” Would she die by the sword before her son came into power? Or was this what the old prophet meant? For her heart was pierced by fear and shame that she hadn’t kept better watch over the one God had given her.
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