Unafraid (9 page)

They hastened along the street into the center of town to the synagogue. When Joseph entered, he felt the air crackle with tension and could hear the rabbi speaking in a taut voice about some aspect of the Law. As soon as he saw Joseph, he clapped his hands. “Enough for today. Remember what we’ve discussed as you go home. Think well on these things.” He waved his hand in dismissal.

The boys rose and hurried from the synagogue, all except Jesus, who sat on a bench in the front. Heart sinking, Joseph came up beside him and put his hand on the boy’s shoulder.

The rabbi shoved his hands into his sleeves and glowered at Jesus. “I’m tired of
him
questioning me!”

Joseph blinked. “Rabbi?” The synagogue was the place for questioning, the place for exploring the Law.

The rabbi shook his head, annoyed. “I don’t mind questions. It’s the manner of his questions I mind.”

Confused, Joseph looked from the rabbi to Jesus and back to the rabbi.

“Speak with him!” The rabbi’s eyes flashed. “Explain to your son that
I
am the rabbi, and if he persists in asking questions that make me look . . . self-righteous, I will bar him from the synagogue. I will not have a mere carpenter’s son undermining my authority.”

Heat poured through Joseph’s body. He let go of Jesus’ shoulder and took a step forward, but Jesus caught his hand and stood. “I meant no disrespect, Rabbi,” the boy said with quiet dignity and looked straight into the man’s eyes and said no more.

All the bluster went out of the rabbi. He blinked. Then his eyes narrowed as he sought some hint of mockery. “You’ve been warned.”

As Joseph left the synagogue with Jesus, he thought of asking him what question had caused such hostility. But when he looked at Jesus, he saw tears. Wincing, Joseph put his arm around the boy. “Did he humiliate you before the others?” Of course he had, Joseph thought, angry enough to go back and give the rabbi a piece of his mind.

Jesus shook his head, that faraway look coming into his eyes again. “Why are men so stubborn?”

Joseph knew Jesus was not asking him for an answer.

When it came time for Jesus to read the Torah in the synagogue, Mary pressed forward in the women’s gallery until she was able to see down into the gathering. The reader chanted the
Shema
. The children answered “amen.” Facing Jesus on the platform was Nazareth’s rabbi and the wealthy merchant who headed the congregation. Behind them sat the town’s seven elders and then the men according to their trade. She spotted Joseph, Jesus, James, and Joseph among the carpenters.

Mary’s fingers gripped the lattice. She had been waiting for this day, the day when her son would read before the congregation. Would he declare himself before the gathering? Would they finally see that he was the Anointed One of God?

The rabbi, followed by the head of the congregation and the chief of the court, approached the Ark of the Covenant and lifted out the sacred scroll of the Torah. The congregation rose and cried out, “And whenever the Ark set out, Moses would cry, ‘Arise, O Lord, and let your enemies be scattered! Let them flee before you!’”

Jesus stepped out from the benches where the carpenters sat and walked forward, adjusting his prayer shawl across his shoulders. He walked with great dignity for one so young. Did others see the difference in his demeanor? Mary’s heart pounded as Jesus ascended the platform. Would something happen today that would make his identity known to all in Nazareth who had whispered behind their hands about her and Joseph? Would they finally see that this son of hers
was
the Messiah? Would they gather around him and praise his name? Would they follow wherever he led them?

Let it be so, Lord. Let his time be now. Father in heaven, we have waited so long. David was anointed king as a boy. You gave David victory on every side.

Jesus took the place of the reader and held the scroll open. “The Lord Almighty says, ‘The day of judgment is coming, burning like a furnace. The arrogant and the wicked will be burned up like straw on that day. They will be consumed like a tree—roots and all.’” As Jesus read, Mary’s skin tingled. His voice was that of a boy, but it held an authority that had nothing to do with years. Did others hear it?

“‘But for you who fear my name, the Sun of Righteousness will rise with healing in his wings. And you will go free, leaping with joy like calves let out to pasture. On the day when I act, you will tread upon the wicked as if they were dust under your feet,’ says the Lord Almighty.”

Her heart swelled with pride. Joseph glanced up at her smiling, his eyes shining.

“Remember to obey the instructions of my servant Moses, all the laws and regulations that I gave him on Mount Sinai for all Israel,” Jesus read on. “Look, I am sending you the prophet Elijah before the great and dreadful day of the Lord arrives. His preaching will turn the hearts of parents to their children, and the hearts of children to their parents.”

Jesus lifted his head, his gaze sweeping over the men listening and then up into the women’s gallery. “Otherwise I will come and strike the land with a curse.”

Mary felt the hair rise on the back of her neck. She was not afraid of the son she had borne for God, but of the future of her people. What of her other sons and daughter? Would they believe Jesus was the Anointed One of God and follow him no matter the cost? Or would they continue to witness his goodness, his love, his mercy, and still not understand that he was more than another child of her loins? He was God’s Son sent from heaven to deliver Israel from bondage.

Ah, the son you bore is greater even than Moses. Your child will reign! Look at your boy, Mary. It’s your blood that runs in his veins.

Her heart filled with a mother’s pride as she stared down at Jesus. The men of Nazareth surrounded him and celebrated his first time reading the Torah before the congregation. It was a great and glorious day! The women around her pressed closer, congratulating her for such a fine son. “He reads so well, Mary. . . . He has such dignity. . . .” One of the elders began to sing a song of celebration, and the other men joined in until the sound of their voices swelled deep and strong, rising.

My son! My son!

Mary stared down at Jesus. When he looked up at her, she was surprised by the look of disquiet on his face. He looked straight at her, and she suddenly realized the direction of the thoughts racing through her head.

My son.

My blood.

My child will reign!

Staring back at Jesus, she pressed cold hands to her burning cheeks.

Oh, Lord God of Israel, forgive me! Jesus is your Son. He is a child of the Holy Spirit. I am only the vessel you used to fulfill your promise.

Jesus’ face had already softened. His eyes shone as he raised his hands and spun around, laughing as he danced while the men of faith surrounded him, arms joined so they formed a circle.

Mary sat on a small bench in the garden in the quiet of the evening. The children were all asleep on their pallets. Jesus and Joseph were talking after the day of celebration, poring over the Scriptures as they so often did. How many times had Mary heard Joseph say to their children that God’s word was settled in heaven, and the truth of it would last to all generations? Jesus’ brothers were too young yet to understand, but still their father would say, “Meditate on the Law, my children, for the Lord’s commandments will make you wiser than your enemies.”

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.”