The Making of the Lamb (6 page)

“Oh, come on, woman.” Joseph guffawed. “I have heard many things said about Jesus, some of them not very nice, but his being simple is not one of them.”

“What do they say about me, Papa?”

“The rabbi says you drive him to distraction, bringing up every contradiction in Scripture.”

“I only seek the truth.”

“The rabbi gets weary when you challenge him, no matter how respectfully you do it.” Joseph turned to Mary. “It’s actually a good thing Jesus is away from the synagogue now except on Sabbath days. I don’t think there is anything more he can learn there, and it would soon cause no end of trouble.”

Jesus smiled. “Don’t worry if people start calling me a simpleton, Mother. Papa is teaching me an honest trade, and we do well with it. No one will care whether I can read from the Torah or not if I can build and mend the things they need.”

“Would you be content just to follow in my husband’s footsteps, knowing what the angel Gabriel told me about you?” Mary asked.

“If that is God’s will, then certainly I will be content, Mother. We have a good life here. I feel God will call me to something else, though I do not know when that will be. Until then, I can be content right here.”

Three weeks later, Joseph took ill. It started with a deep cough, but soon he was too weak to rise from bed.

Then the Sadducees came, two of the temple priests arriving all the way from Jerusalem.

“We’ve come to talk to Jesus.”

That could only mean trouble. Sadducees did not journey such a distance just for a pleasant chat with anyone, much less a boy of Jesus’s age.

“He’s away,” Mary said, glad to be able to speak honestly. Jesus had returned on his own to work in Sepphoris that morning. “What business can you have with my son?”

Their insincere smiles tightened the knots in her stomach.

“We merely want to talk,” the older one said. “We’ll return at a better time.”

Late that evening Jesus returned, sweaty and covered with the dust of the road. Mary told him that the Sadducees had come to see him, and he snorted and sat near the basin at the door to wash his feet. “So?”

“You are oblivious to danger,” she wailed, and plunked a basket of bread on the table.

“I am determined to spread the truth.”

“The truth as you see it.”

“To anyone who will listen.” He sat on a cushion at the table.

“Jesus, you are old enough for the authorities to treat you as a man. Even though you have not recited from the Torah, they can punish you.” She saw nothing but truth and childlike innocence in him, no matter how much his wisdom belied that innocence. But not everyone would agree with her.

Mary needed help, and there was only one place to find it. She persuaded her husband Joseph to write to her uncle. Mary’s uncle had the same name as her husband, so they usually identified him by his hometown: Joseph of Arimathea. Her mother’s youngest brother, Uncle Joseph was only five years Mary’s senior, so he seemed more like a cousin or older brother to her than an uncle. Growing up as children, they had played together on family visits. Her first taste of tragedy had come the year before her own betrothal, when Uncle Joseph’s wife had died in childbirth. They were so close; she had felt his pain as her own.

With each passing day, Mary watched the road for a messenger bearing a reply from Uncle Joseph. She sensed approaching danger, a feeling of something ominous in the air of Nazareth. The people of the village seemed to draw silent at her approach. Even the rabbi avoided her. Her husband Joseph was far too ill to travel now, much less take Jesus and her away from danger, as he had taken them to Egypt so many years ago when the monster Herod slaughtered the babes. Now duty called upon her to tend to her sick husband, no matter what. They were all stuck in this place as the wolves circled in.

The day after the Sabbath, Jesus remained in Nazareth as the work in Sepphoris had stopped for a few days. Mary gave her husband some soup and then came out of the house to look up the road again. In the distance, two figures on horseback rode toward the village. Their horses’ hooves raised clouds of dust, obscuring their appearance. Mary ran to find her son. This had to be the Sadducees returning.

She found him in the village square teaching, with some of the other village children squatting at his feet. Older passers-by scowled, evidently wondering what sort of mischief Jesus was implanting in those innocent heads.

She grabbed his wrist. “Come quickly.”

As they began to scurry inside the house, Mary looked up the road one last time. She could now recognize her uncle Joseph. The second rider must be his son, Daniel. In tears, Mary hugged Jesus.

As her uncle and cousin alighted, she exclaimed, “Oh, Joseph, thanks be to God. You’re here at our hour of need.”

Daniel scowled when his father told him to stay outside with Jesus while he went inside to talk to Mary and her husband. It was hard to tell that the boys were related. Jesus’s curly brown hair would never darken to match the coal black strands that fell straight from the crown of his cousin’s head. The green color of their eyes was the only feature they seemed to share. Still beardless at fifteen, Daniel was turning into a strapping young man. Although his movements betrayed the awkwardness of that age, muscles were filling out his body.

“So, shall we make mud pies again?” Daniel asked Jesus, with something of a smirk.

Jesus silently folded his arms.

Daniel continued, “We heard you caused quite a commotion.”

Mary could not stay to listen for more. Uncle Joseph was inside the house and waving for her to follow.

In the darkened side room where Mary and Joseph shared their bed, the two Josephs greeted each other. It was a humble home, but clean and tidy. Jesus’s bed occupied one corner of the main room, which the family also used to cook and eat their meals. Joseph’s workbench sat idle. In another corner was a small oil lamp table and a chair that Jesus used when studying.

“I’ll talk things over with Uncle,” Mary said, “and we’ll wake you before deciding anything.”

Seemingly satisfied, her husband slumped back in the bed.

Uncle Joseph opened his arms as he turned back to the main room and embraced her. For a brief moment they were once again childhood companions.

“Your husband’s letter was waiting for me when I got home yesterday,” Uncle Joseph began. “I came as quickly as I could.”

“Thanks be to God. I fear Jesus is in danger.”

“Haven’t you told him to mind his tongue? He is far too young to be preaching on Scripture.”

“You don’t understand what it’s like with a child such as Jesus. In most ways, he is gentle and obedient. Look at his bed. He has made it up perfectly ever since he was three; I have never even needed to remind him. When it comes to matters of Scripture, though, he is convinced that he knows the truth and must share it with the world. He cares not for any words of danger. God knows I have tried.” Mary began to weep. “The Sadducees came to question him. I told them he was away, but what can I tell them next time? Some people of the village seem hostile, and I fear they will betray us when the Sadducees return. Something must be done with Jesus quickly, but I know not what.”

“The time is even shorter than you think,” Uncle Joseph said. “My friends among the Sanhedrin told me much in confidence. Annas is losing support among the Sanhedrin. His son-in-law Caiaphas’s influence grows, and some say Caiaphas will replace Annas as high priest.”

“What does that have to do with Jesus?”

“Caiaphas heard Jesus preach in the temple, and he is convinced that Jesus is dangerous. Your rabbi has been sending reports to him, too.”

“What danger does Caiaphas think Jesus can be? He is only a boy.”

“It matters not the reasons for Caiaphas’s fear of Jesus,” said Uncle Joseph. “Perhaps he is only using the boy to make his name as an enemy of blasphemers. Whatever his reasons, the Sadducees will come again, and they will not be put off next time.”

How could the priests see her child as such a threat?

“I have it on good authority,” said Uncle Joseph, “that Caiaphas has alerted the temple guards to detain Jesus if he returns to Judea.”

“All this for fear of a child!” Mary sighed. “What are the Sadducees waiting for?”

“Their authority is limited to Judea. They must go through King Herod Antipas to do anything more than investigate in Galilee. But even now Caiaphas has Antipas’s ear.”

“Maybe we should get Jesus away.”

“I have already taken steps to do that. The time was too short to write back and ask you. I instructed the captain of my ship to depart from Caesarea and make for Acre. It will be easier to meet the ship there with Jesus. We will have to stay off the roads through Galilee as much as we can and avoid Sepphoris.”

“Will he be safe once he crosses the border into Syria?”

“Jesus may gain a short reprieve, at best. Acre is a den of intrigue, with Jews, Greeks, Arabs, and Phoenicians all suspicious of each other. Caiaphas is sure to have his spies among them. The authorities in Acre could very well send Jesus back if they get word he is wanted in Judea; the Roman legates do favors like that for each other all the time.”

“Maybe you could take Jesus to Antioch or Damascus. As soon as my husband recovers, I can travel there from time to time to look after Jesus.”

“I’m afraid, dear Mary, that you do not understand the Romans as I do. Beyond Judea and Galilee, your son would be directly under their authority. They tolerate religions that are native to the lands they conquer, if the followers refrain from criticizing their gods. But if Jesus is as willful on matters of Scripture as you say, he will find that the Romans care even less for those they consider blasphemers of their pagan gods than Caiaphas does for the blasphemers of ours. Nor can we count on the Jewish communities in those provinces to protect him; they look to the Sanhedrin for moral guidance. The next time Jesus gets in trouble, he would be far from any aid I might bring.”

Mary collapsed on a cushion. “So, what is to be done?”

Uncle Joseph paused. “I think it is best if I take Jesus with me beyond the authority of the Romans until he is fully of age. I will leave soon on a new expedition, and I do not expect to return for two years. He can accompany Daniel and me to the Isle of the Britons.”

“The Britons?” gasped Mary. “But that is so far away. And aren’t the Britons savages?” Her stomach knotted.

“The Romans tell many lies about them. In the regions where I travel, the natives have been trading peaceably for centuries with Greeks and Phoenicians long before the Romans extended their rule beyond their city limits. King Solomon himself used British lead and tin in the building of the first temple.”

Britain? That was on the other side of the world. She resisted, but Uncle Joseph patiently convinced her that there was little choice; every alternative she suggested would be far more dangerous for Jesus.

Mary woke her husband to explain that they must send Jesus away.

He listened carefully. “Jesus is no longer a child,” he rasped. “He has insight into Scripture far beyond his years, and even ordinary boys become men at his age. This decision must be his.”

Mary and her uncle walked outside. They expected to find the two cousins wrestling or engaged in some other rough play. Instead, what they saw made them hesitate at the threshold, momentarily dumbfounded.

There was Daniel, down on his knees at Jesus’s feet, his hands clasped as if in supplication or prayer, gazing up silently at his cousin.

Jesus met his mother’s eyes. “I didn’t do anything to him,” he said. “We were just chatting, and suddenly he stopped talking and knelt for no reason at all.”

No longer was he acting the part of the audacious young teacher who dared to challenge the Sanhedrin. Once more, he appeared to Mary as the innocent child, shrugging, not knowing what to make of his older cousin’s strange behavior, a child caught helplessly in an awkward situation.

“Get up, fool!” Uncle Joseph commanded his son.

Daniel remained silently in his posture of supplication before Jesus.

Then Jesus spoke in a shaky, awkward voice. “Listen to your father, Daniel. Get up.”

At these words, Daniel emerged from his trance. Slowly, he rose to his feet.

Once they were all back in the house, Mary explained to Jesus that for his own safety he should leave right away with Uncle Joseph for Britain.

“Does Papa agree with this?” asked Jesus.

“Yes, but he insisted this decision is yours to make.” Mary paused. “He says you are a man now.”

“Come with us, Jesus. Think of what an adventure it will be!” said Daniel.

“With Papa so sick, this is hardly the time for me to be off looking for adventures.” Jesus turned to Mary and her uncle. “On the other hand, I do not care about hardship or danger. My Father will protect me.” Seeing Uncle wince, Jesus corrected himself. “I put my faith in God to protect me. But how can I leave you alone, Mother, to take care of Papa?”

“I won’t be alone. Joseph’s children will help care for him.” Even as Mary said this, she realized there would be trouble on that score. Jesus’s older half-brothers and half-sisters, Joseph’s children by a previous marriage, honored and respected Joseph as their father. They would certainly do everything they could for him. But to them Mary was the stepmother. Still an outsider.