Daughter of Cana Page 29

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  Tasmin

  Because the next day was Shabbat, Jude and I resolved to remain at the inn and rest in preparation for our journey home. Thomas stayed with us. When I asked him what happened to the other disciples, he said they had scattered throughout the city. “Several are staying with John Mark’s mother,” he said. “She has a house with room to spare. James is probably with John. And the women.” He flushed. “Many are afraid the Temple elders will try to punish us, as well.”

  “Why?” Jude asked, a note of mockery in his tone. “You didn’t claim to be the son of God.”

  “No.” Thomas lowered his gaze. “So they might not kill us. But ‘forty lashes minus one’ can make you want to die.”

  I turned away as an unwelcome blush burned my cheeks. My brother had never embarrassed me before, but was he honestly hiding out of fear? I could understand being afraid when they arrested Yeshua. But now? After hearing how Yeshua bravely stood before Pilate and Antipas and his Roman executioners, never once recanting his words or his beliefs, how could Thomas fear a whipping?

  “I’m going to the other room,” I said, standing. “I may sleep for a while. May both of you enjoy a Sabbath rest.”

  I left Jude and Thomas with each other—I loved them, but both men were walking examples of the word stubborn. I kept thinking of Jude’s refusal to approach Yeshua’s execution stake to comfort his mother, and Thomas refusing to come home after Abba and I begged him. Did they hesitate because of male pride, or was there some other reason?

  I pulled one of the mattresses from the stack in the corner and lay down, crossing my hands over my waist. The last three days had been difficult and sleep should have come easily. But it did not.

  “I and the Father are One,” Yeshua had said, but how was that possible?

  “Hear, O Israel, the Lord our God, the Lord is one.” I had been reciting the Shema since childhood; its words were burned into my brain. HaShem was one. One.

  My mind searched through all the Torah lessons I had learned. HaShem told Moses that he had filled the men who would create beautiful items for the Tabernacle with the Ruach Elohim, or Spirit of God. So God was Creator and Almighty, but He was also a Spirit who could indwell people.

  I closed my eyes, recalling some of the first words of the Pentateuch:

  “And the Ruach Elohim was hovering upon the surface of the water . . . Then God said, ‘Let Us make man in Our image, after Our likeness!’”

  Us. Plural. One but more than one. A mystery beyond my understanding.

  “I and the Father are One.”

  Had any other prophet made that claim? Not to my knowledge.

  “But seek first the kingdom of God and His righteousness, and all these things shall be added to you . . .

  “If I drive out demons by the Ruach Elohim, then the kingdom of God has come upon you . . .

  “Again, I tell you, it is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle, than for a rich man to enter the kingdom of God.”

  I closed my eyes in a vain effort to sleep.

  Why was I tormenting myself with these thoughts? Thomas had been waiting for Yeshua to establish the kingdom of God in Jerusalem on earth. But there would be no kingdom of God now. The promised warrior king had been unable to save himself, so Yeshua was not the messiah. He had not been crowned king, he would never establish a kingdom, and he clearly was not God, for God could not die.

  Still, the memories filled my head.

  “No one who has put his hand to the plow and looked back is fit for the kingdom of God . . .

  “The kingdom of God does not come with signs to be seen. For the kingdom of God is within you . . .

  “The kingdom of God is like when a man spreads seed on the soil and falls asleep at night and gets up by day, and the seed sprouts and grows. He himself doesn’t know how.”

  Another mystery. A secret beyond my—

  My father’s voice: “‘The Lord is our God, the Lord alone’ puts you under God’s yoke and brings you into the kingdom of God.”

  I felt the answer all at once, like a tingling in my head. Where was the kingdom of God? Under God’s yoke, Abba said. Within us, said Yeshua.

  The kingdom of God was not on a map. It was our submission to HaShem. In our choice to obey Him.

  The kingdom of God was wherever God was king.

  It was within those who surrendered to His kingship.

  It was where demons fled and little boys came back to life.

  It was why Thomas left his home and father and sister. His commitment was real, but he had misunderstood Yeshua’s meaning.

  None of Yeshua’s teachings ever made sense to me because, like Thomas, I kept expecting him to establish an earthly empire. Yet over and over, Yeshua said the kingdom of God existed within those who made God their king.

  HaShem was not Pilate’s king.

  Despite their dedication to rules and regulations, He did not rule in the hearts of the chief priests and elders.

  My only regret—and it ran deep—was that I had not supported Yeshua sooner. HaShem had not sent us a miracle-working prophet in four hundred years, so how could I have let the opportunity to follow him slip by?

  Now he was dead, like so many prophets before him. But Thomas had listened. He would share his memories with me.

  I stood and walked to the doorway, then leaned into the common room. “Jude, Thomas—I think I have discovered what Yeshua meant by the kingdom of God.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

  Jude

  I listened to Tasmin babble, aware that Thomas was listening with a confused expression on his face.

  “Don’t you see?” She smiled up at me. “We were expecting a messiah to establish an earthly kingdom, but Yeshua was a prophet who wanted to remind us that the kingdom of God has nothing to do with human kings. He had no interest in armies or power but in the condition of men’s hearts. That’s why the rich find it hard to enter the kingdom of God, and children find it easy. Whoever loves money or power more than HaShem cannot enter, but those who love HaShem, those who surrender to His will—they understand.”

  She pressed her fingertips to her temples, smiling as she turned to her brother. “Thomas, I am sorry. I thought you were being stubborn and unkind when you would not come home, but you were seeking the kingdom of God. You were with Yeshua, day after day, while I resented you.” She shook her head. “I should not have pressured you. I should have put Abba in a wagon and taken him to Yeshua for healing. I was focused on what I wanted, but the kingdom of God isn’t about what I want. If God is my king, I am his slave. I must focus on what He wants.”

  “And Yeshua?” Thomas asked.

  “A great prophet. A man called and gifted by HaShem.”

  Thomas looked at her, a faint smile on his face, then turned to me. “I think,” he said, “we should go see John.”

  “John?”

  He nodded. “I believe we need to visit your mother.”

  John’s house was on the far side of Jerusalem, and I balked when Thomas revealed its location. “Today is Shabbat,” I reminded him. “The distance is too far to walk.”

  Thomas tugged on his beard and sighed. “Once we were walking through the fields on Shabbat, and Yeshua bade us pluck the grain to eat. The Pharisees saw us eating and asked why we were doing something not allowed on the Sabbath. Yeshua said Shabbat was made for man, not man for Shabbat.” He gave me a restrained smile. “I am sure Yeshua would approve of your walking to see your mother.”

  So, after my initial misgivings, the three of us set out. When we finally reached the house where John was staying, a cautious servant opened the door. “Is Yeshua’s mother here?” Thomas asked. “Her son Jude would like to speak to her.”

  The servant opened the door and gestured to the main room, where Mary, John, Salome, and others were reclining around the remains of a Shabbat meal. Every face wore an expression of surprise, but Tasmin quickly explained our purpose in interrupting t
heir dinner.

  “Please forgive us for disturbing you,” she said, pressing her hand to her chest as she looked at my mother. “But Jude wanted to be certain you were well.”

  Ima looked at me, and for a moment I could not speak. We had all suffered over the last three days, and I had imagined that she would suffer more than any of us. But Ima’s face was smooth, her smile gentle. Her cheeks were paler than usual, yet she did not look like a woman in despair.

  “Ima,” I said, my voice breaking, “I know how much you loved him. I am so sorry.”

  “Jude.” She rose and came forward to embrace me, then rubbed my back and looked up into my eyes. “I love you, too, my son. And I have been concerned about you.”

  I made a vague sound in my throat as Ima turned to Tasmin. “I understand you are to be my daughter-in-law,” she said, placing her hands on Tasmin’s shoulders. “Welcome to the family. May HaShem richly bless you with every blessing.”

  Thomas stepped forward. “I believe,” he said, clearing his throat, “that Jude and Tasmin need to know the story of Yeshua’s birth.”

  Ima lifted a brow. “Truly?”

  Thomas smiled. “I believe they are ready to hear it.”

  My mother gestured to cushions on the floor. “Sit, please. It is a long story, but one that needs to be told. I have not told you about it before now because . . .” She paused and looked at me, her mouth curving with tenderness. “I wanted you and your siblings to love each other as brothers and sisters.”

  I glanced at Tasmin, wondering if she was as confused as I was. She met my glance and lifted a brow, then sat on a cushion and made room for me to sit next to her. Those who had been reclining on dining couches made themselves comfortable as we all settled back to listen.

  Ima sat on a bench, her back straight and her eyes alight. “My story begins when I was a young girl in Nazareth.” She looked at me, her eyes softening with seriousness, a moment of absolute truth. “I was betrothed to Joseph, and he was working hard to finish our home. Then one afternoon the angel Gabriel appeared to me and said, ‘Shalom, favored one! Adonai is with you. Do not be afraid, for you have found favor with God.’”

  I caught my breath. I had always known my mother to be a righteous woman, but why hadn’t she told me that she’d been visited by an angel? I leaned forward to hear more.

  “The angel said, ‘Behold—’” a small laugh bubbled up from her throat—“‘you will become pregnant and give birth to a son, and you shall call His name Yeshua. He will be great and will be called Ben-Elyon. Adonai Elohim will give Him the throne of David, His father. He shall reign over the house of Jacob for all eternity, and His kingdom will be without end.’”

  I blinked in the heavy silence. Outside the house, a man’s sandals made soft popping sounds as he walked down the street, and I wondered where he could be going in such a hurry. To the Temple? To his mother’s house?

  “Ima,” I began, shaking my head, “you have been under great stress.”

  “It is not your time to speak,” John said, with a gentle note of reproof. “It is your mother’s.”

  I stared at him, suddenly aware that my mother’s story had not shocked him. He had heard it before! Perhaps they all had, because I seemed to be the only one who could not understand how Ima could believe Yeshua was the son of God. If he were divine, why was he resting in a tomb?

  Ima smiled and continued her story. “‘But how can this be,’ I asked the angel, ‘since I am not intimate with a man?’ And the angel said, ‘The Ruach ha-Kodesh will come upon you, and the power of Elyon will overshadow you. Therefore, the Holy One being born will be called Ben-Elohim, the Son of God . . .’”

  I sat perfectly still, ripples of shock spreading from my head to my toes as Ima went on, telling us about my father’s astonishment when he heard she was expecting a child, and about how Elizabeth, John the Immerser’s mother, had known about her condition even before Ima visited her. She told us how an angel appeared to Joseph in a dream, assuring him that the child she carried was holy and begotten of God.

  Ima blushed when she spoke of my father, and her eyes welled with tears when she told us how he saved her and the child when Herod the Great sent soldiers to slaughter all the babies in Bethlehem. She spoke of the months they lived in Egypt, of reentering Judea, and finally returning to Nazareth because it was home. No one in Nazareth knew the unusual circumstances of Yeshua’s birth, and everyone assumed her firstborn was Joseph’s, as were the children that followed: James, Damaris, me, Simeon, Pheodora, and Joses.

  When Ima’s voice had gone hoarse after so much talking, she smiled and looked at me. “I know you think the story is over,” she said, “but it is not.” Her expression shifted to one of fond reminiscence. “When Joseph and I were still living in Bethlehem, before we had to flee, we went to the Temple for my purification sacrifice. While Joseph and I were offering our turtledoves, a stranger approached us, a Levite named Simeon. He took one look at the baby in my arms, lifted his hands and praised HaShem, saying he could die in peace, for his eyes had seen Adonai’s salvation—a light for revelation to the nations and the glory of Israel.”

  Ima glanced down, and I knew she was once again seeing that baby in her arms. Then she spoke slowly, as though she were reciting something she had memorized: “Then Simeon came to me and said, ‘Behold, this One is destined to cause the fall and rise of many in Israel, and to be a sign that is opposed, so the thoughts of many hearts may be uncovered. And even for you—a sword will pierce through your soul.’”

  She looked up, her gaze roving over all of us who listened. “Watching my son die did pierce my soul, but Adonai is faithful, and He will keep His word. Before Yeshua was born, I told the angel, ‘Behold, the servant of Adonai. Let it be done to me according to your word.’ I told HaShem the same thing as I watched Yeshua hang on the execution stake.”

  She turned, and the look in her eyes pierced me. How many times had I resented her for treating Yeshua differently from the rest of us? How many times had I asked myself why Yeshua was her favorite? He was no more handsome or skilled or talented than James or Simeon or Joses . . . or me.

  How many times had I harbored jealousy of my older brother? I resented the hours he spent alone in the wilderness, in the fields, and on the mountains. I never understood anything about him or my parents, and all the time he knew it . . . and repaid my pettiness with grace. For though I was mean-spirited and selfish, he never retaliated, never disdained me, never insinuated that he was anything but a loving older brother . . .

  “Ima.” With my heart too full for words, I reached out and caught her hands, then slid over and knelt at her feet. “I never knew anything . . . until now.”

  Her hands fell on my head, and a moment later I felt her lips on my hair. “All is forgiven, Jude.”

  My thoughts, haphazard and painful, centered on a remorse that went far beyond tears. “But now he is dead, and I cannot make things right with him. He will never know how sorry I am—”

  “Jude.” Ima’s small hand lifted my chin until we were eye to eye. “He knows,” she said simply. “And soon you can tell him anything.”

  “But—”

  “Shh.” Her fingertip touched my lips. “Tonight is the third night.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

  Tasmin

  When the first three stars appeared in the violet sky, signaling the end of Shabbat, Jude, Thomas, and I went back to the inn, each of us lost in our thoughts. Dozens of people walked in the torchlit streets, performing tasks they had postponed until the end of the Sabbath. We dared not speak about what we had learned because we did not know who might be listening.

  I kept hearing Mary’s voice as she told us of Yeshua’s birth. She told her story clearly and without hesitation, and I knew she had not shared it with many. How were ordinary people supposed to react to such a tale? Most would not believe her—Joseph himself had not believed until an angel settled his doubts.

  I understood why she nev
er told her other children about Yeshua’s conception. Living with such knowledge would be nearly impossible, for how could human children live up to the holiness of the son of God? She had done her best to raise ordinary children in an extraordinary situation, and I admired her courage and wisdom. No wonder HaShem had chosen her to bear His son!

  “The third night,” Jude said, pitching his voice so it reached me and Thomas alone. “Does she truly believe he will rise from the dead?”

  Thomas spread his hands. “The sign of Jonah—three days and three nights in the earth. That is what he said.”

  “Mary believes it,” I added. “Watching Yeshua die distressed her, but she is not grieving. She is waiting.” I looked at Thomas. “You heard him say he would rise again. Surely you are waiting, too?”

  Thomas inhaled a long, slow breath, then shook his head. “He was a man,” he finally said. “I saw him eat, drink, and grow weary. I heard him cough and feel pain. I saw him weep. I do not doubt Mary’s story, but can a man—even one begotten by the Spirit of God—wake from death by crucifixion? I do not believe it is possible.”

  “He raised Lazarus,” I pointed out. “And HaShem is the author of life, so HaShem has the power and authority to work such a miracle.”

  “But will HaShem raise the one chosen to be our Passover Lamb?” Thomas asked. “Sacrificial lambs do not live again.”

  Troubled by Thomas’s answer, I turned to Jude. He had not said much since Mary finished her tale, and I knew conflicting doubts filled his head. But one way or another, time would tell the full story . . . and tomorrow, the first day of a new week, would bring an answer to the question we cared about most.

  CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

  Tasmin

  The new morning dawned bright and cool. With a rush of memory I realized the day was Nisan 17, the day set aside for the Feast of Firstfruits. Today every Jewish family in Jerusalem would go to the Temple with some of the first sheaves of harvested barley. They would wave the sheaves before the altar, thanking HaShem for His provision. After their Temple visit, men and women would go about their work as usual, and if nothing extraordinary happened, Jude, Thomas, and I would begin our journey back to Galilee.