The Child Madonna - Chapter 32 "Decision Time"

Chapter 32 Decision Time

The little house is choked with people and the noise is deafening and confusing. As well as all our neighbours, my Aunts Ruth and Mariam with all their children are here - and a couple of grandchildren, babes in arms. Their cries are joining those of the new baby who is currently bawling his head off, the poor mite just having been circumcised, as it is the eighth day since his birth. Clopas is representing the family in Nazareth, and whilst the gifts are being presented to Zechariah and Elizabeth, I am spared further confrontation with him. Several people have brought animals to contribute to the feast which we are now trying to prepare in the inadequate space available. One of the men will kill the fowls and beasts tomorrow, leaving the carcases for roasting and presentation by those of us who will remain at home, while Zechariah, Elizabeth and the men go to the Temple to consecrate the baby and name him.

I am relieved to have plenty to do, and be surrounded by the guests and other visitors. Yesterday, when Clopas arrived, after courtesies had been exchanged with Zechariah and he had viewed his son, he sought me out and saw at once my condition. I have always, I thought, got on quite well with Clopas, but I was dismayed at his treatment of me. He dealt with me like a delinquent child, caught red-handed in some nefarious act. Any attempt to explain or reason with him was dismissed with scorn; he had expected me to obey Eli and found the continuing existence of my baby offensive and insulting. He expressed disappointment that Zechariah and Elizabeth had not enforced Eli’s wishes, but said he would refrain from criticism for a day or two, to avoid spoiling their celebration. Then we had been interrupted, there had been no further privacy afforded for any further conversation of this nature, and for decency’s sake Clopas had desisted from making public comment.

The next morning Zechariah, Elizabeth, Clopas, Ruth’s husband, sons and a number of male neighbours set off early for Jerusalem leaving Ruth to organise the celebratory meal in preparation for their return in the evening. Two of her daughters had their own young children to look after, but there are five of us - Ruth’s daughters, Rhoda and Leila, Mariam’s Rebecca and Zilpah, and myself - who are squatting outside the house, plucking the chickens ready for the pot. As we work, we chatter, of course, like any group of girls. Rhoda boasts about her recent betrothal to the favoured son of a prosperous merchant in Bethphage, and Leila talks about her father’s current efforts to select a husband for her too. Rebecca and Zilpah are envious. They, as daughters of a divorcee will find it much harder to get suitable husbands and will have to settle for less favourable matches. As yet, nothing is in prospect, even though they are the same age as their cousins. I am naturally asked all sorts of questions about Joseph, when I am being married, where we will live and so on.

In the middle of this light-hearted banter and further speculation about our future lives, Rhoda suddenly turns to me, winks mischievously, and says probably in all innocence to the others:

“Look at Mari squatting there telling us all about her Joseph, and dreaming about her future family. If you ask me, I don’t think she’s waited for the wedding. I think she’s got a secret hidden under her bulging tunic.”

All eyes turn to look at me. Instinctively I try to pull in my shift and draw in my breath, but I can’t help blushing as I do so.

“Look, she’s going all pink,” says Leila gleefully, “I think you’ve hit the nail right on the head.”

“No, “ I try to protest, “It’s just the way I’m sitting,” but before I can do anything further, all four girls swoop on me, so that I drop the carcase in a flurry of feathers, and try to grab my tunic and hold it tight against me. For a few moments we are all engaged in a tussle, then I find my arms pinioned behind my back and they are lifting my shift to get a good look at me. I cannot hide anything now. It is too obvious when they see my naked flesh. The laughter and teasing subsides into scandalised gasps of self-righteous horror as they gawp at me and prod my defenceless swollen belly. I cannot deny their accusations. They assume Joseph could not wait and has had his way with me. I want to protest, defend Joseph, justify myself, but this does not seem the time or place.

I try to ask them to keep my secret, but already Leila has rushed off to her older sisters who are suckling their babies inside the house and she is blurting out the scandal to them. In no time at all, I am surrounded by a gaggle of inquisitive and inquisitorial women, my aunts and cousins, criticising, judging, comparing my situation unfavourably with their own circumstances, commiserating with my distant mother. I try one tentative defence to claim a special birth, a miracle linked to that of my aunt, now on her way to the Temple. It is a disaster. The mood turns from curiosity and scandalised gossip to one of disgust and ostracism.

I am found jobs to do that are the dirtiest, and most menial. I am isolated from the others by being sent to fetch water, do the washing. I am not good enough now to join in the general merriment. I am unclean.

The day drags on and I feel sick at heart. I had so looked forward to meeting and talking to my cousins, and it’s all in ruins. It seems so difficult to explain and I feel depressed. If I find this situation oppressive and intolerable, how will I cope with Eli and the elders back in Nazareth? How will I deal with scorn and ridicule? My resolve is being sorely tested; I long for Elizabeth to return, I need her help to restore my hope and purpose. Perhaps it is the suddenness of it all - one moment we are all laughing together, the next, for no apparent reason, I am uncovered and exposed; I have not prepared for this.

When I return from one of my errands - I have been dawdling to avoid the pressure of enforced solitude inside the house - I see that the Jerusalem party has reappeared and animated conversation is taking place, with Zechariah in the centre of the huddle. There is an unnatural excitement in the air, an edgy hysteria that is reflected in the shrill voices, the overloud asides, and I sidle up to those on the periphery of the conversation to find out what is going on.

“Ah, Mari, there you are!” My Aunt Elizabeth pounces on me, hurrying through from the room where the food is being prepared and laid out. “A most wonderful thing has happened! Your uncle’s voice has returned. It’s a miracle! It happened during the naming. I had just told the priest that the boy was to be named ‘John’, as we had been instructed. Everyone queried this, we’ve never had a ‘John’ in the family, and they wouldn’t take my word for it. They turned to Zechariah to seek his confirmation and he wrote for them ‘His name is John.’ Then to my amazement, he suddenly started saying the name out loud. “John, John,” he said twice as if he didn’t believe it himself, then he began to shout and laugh, and we were all overjoyed and made such a noise that another priest had to come over and ask us to keep our voices down, we were giving offence to the worshippers. Oh, Mari, you can’t believe how relieved I am. We think it is a miraculous answer to our prayers, granted to us when we carried out the instructions given by the young man who spoke of God’s will for us.”

I am very pleased for Elizabeth. It makes her joy complete. She is beaming at everyone, savouring her hour of triumph; undoubtedly in the past she has been sensitive to the implied criticisms and barbed remarks from these same relatives and neighbours. Now she has a child to confound them, one who is marked out by his belated birth, and the mystery imparted to it by Zechariah’s vision and temporary speech impediment. I have been longing for her company in order to confide my own problems with the others, but I am loathe to spoil her joy, it doesn’t seem fair to burden her with my little complaints.

I return to preparation of the meal, glad that Elizabeth has sought me out, as though she is aware of my isolation. As I move around, fetching and carrying, I catch snatches of conversation and check myself when I overhear Ruth telling Clopas about my pregnancy. I can’t hear every word, and I try to melt away so that they do not know that I am listening. Clopas appears to be indicating that he is well aware of what she is whispering to him, and from his gestures, telling her not to spread the gossip more widely. Then they seem to sense my presence, without looking at me, and abruptly change the subject.

When I next bring food through to the table, Clopas draws me on one side.

“Come outside a moment. I want to talk to you further and I’m sure you can be spared - there are enough other women about.”

We walk in silence down the street, which at this hour of dusk is virtually deserted. All the way to the spring I keep expecting him to say something, but there is just a tense expectancy between us. I dare not start the conversation. There is no-one drawing water now, it is too late. We sit on the rock beside the trickling water.

“Well, I understand everyone knows your secret now.”

“Yes, the other girls guessed.”

You did not tell them?”

“No, Clopas, I tried to hide it from them, but they forced me to reveal it.”

“I thought from something said that you had volunteered the information. I’m glad to hear it’s otherwise, although common knowledge of your condition makes it harder for all of us to treat you with any mercy.”

Clopas thinks for a moment, then looks me full in the face.

“Why, Mari, why have you not obeyed Eli’s instructions? He’s been fair to you in covering up your situation, he’s sought time to resolve your difficulty, he’s put his own position with the other elders in jeopardy, he’s even talked Joseph into not revoking your betrothal.”

Clopas’ last words quicken my heart and I say hurriedly:

“Is Joseph still really prepared to marry me?”

“He was, Mari. Eli told him you’d return from Ein-Karem an obedient and chastened girl, ready to obey him. He has been promised even more generous help by Eli to set up business in return for a swift marriage and his suppression of the fact that you are no longer a virgin.

“Is he prepared only to marry me to receive Eli’s extra favours?”

“You are a peculiar girl, Mari. No, I think he was only too relieved to be given an excuse not to have to repudiate you. I think he genuinely likes you. But news of your pregnancy upset him dreadfully. He could not understand it at all.”

“I really am very sorry about that. I have never wanted to hurt him.”

“Well, you’ve gone a funny way about things if that was your sincere wish. And now look at you! He can’t possibly marry you now. If he took you in this condition, he’d be ridiculed. The fact that all your relatives here seem to have discovered your pregnancy means that we cannot keep it secret in the family, even if we wanted to. Anyway, you’re already showing; your frame is too slight to be able to hide the child any longer.”

“So what can I do?”

“You haven’t answered my question yet. Why did you not obey Eli, and allow Zechariah to arrange the termination of your pregnancy?”

“Have you asked Zechariah and Elizabeth that question?”

“No, Mariam, I have not. The responsibility is yours, not theirs. You are not a child now, you are an adult in the eyes of the law, accountable yourself.”

“Yes, Clopas, I am accountable. Accountable to God. I am surer than ever before that this baby inside me is God’s chosen Messiah. How can I break that trust?”

“Mariam, you are not still full of that nonsense, are you? These sorts of things do not happen to ordinary people like you and me. They are fancies come from too much reading of the scriptures; we should never have encouraged you so much. I’m afraid a ruthless stranger has taken advantage of your credulity and fed you a story just so that he could slake his lust. Although it beats me why he picked on you, or how he knew you’d fall for it!”

“Elizabeth and Zechariah believe me.”

“What?!”

“I said, Elizabeth and Zechariah believe me.”

“I know you did. What web of lies have you woven to trap them into supporting you?”

“I haven’t told them any lies. Elizabeth asked me to tell her everything. She found my experience tallied with her own. She knew I was right.”

“And Zechariah , surely he does not believe ?”

“I think so. It is difficult to tell, since he has been dumb. I have had no chance to talk to him since his voice returned. But Elizabeth has told me that he believes.”

“I will talk to him myself. I can’t believe it of him. He is such a sensible down to earth man.”

“Will I be allowed home, Clopas?”

“You know the penalty as well as I do, Mariam. Your sentence was only put aside provisionally, it was not cancelled. And you have not fulfilled that condition. How can the elders ignore your deliberate disobedience?”

“So, if I come home I will be put to death?”

“If you put it so baldly, yes.”

“And there is no possibility of mercy, no consideration that God’s message to me might be genuine?”

“Mari, if you insist on that defence, you will rile them further. If you confess your sin, if you humiliate yourself and beg for forgiveness, perhaps….. … although I do not see how they can ignore your blatant rejection of their command to you. But if you claim to be following God’s will, you are accusing them by implication of standing in God’s way, and you will be accused of blasphemy, if nothing worse. You could finish by being burned if you are not careful.”

He lays his hand on my arm.

“I’m sorry, Mari, to be so blunt, but you must wake up to the risks you are running. Sometimes I think it is not real to you, your imagination just takes over and persuades you that you are telling one of your inimitable stories to the children.”

“I have no option now, I have to go on.”

“I must admit that by your past decisions, you’ve severely limited the options now open to you. For a start, an abortion at nearly five months is much more dangerous to you, than it would have been when you first came here.”

“I cannot do that. I have told Zechariah and Elizabeth that I do not want that arranged and they would not fix it now even if I changed my mind, because they are convinced the baby is God’s will.”

“If they will not risk it, then I will court their wrath if necessary by taking you myself to have it done.”

“You?! You would take me to a heathen temple and sacrifice to a Canaanite goddess just to obey Eli’s will?”

“Not just to obey Eli’s will, Mari. I want to save you. Whatever you may think, I care what happens to you. Your mother is my friend, you have cared for, and loved, my children. How can I be indifferent to your fate? But surely there are other ways of terminating your pregnancy than at the hands of heathen sorcerers?”

“Ask Elizabeth if you wish; I don’t believe she knows of any. But you are wasting your time, I will not have this baby torn from me.”

“Don’t talk to me like that, Mariam. That is not going to solve our problem.”

“I will stay with Elizabeth then. She has told me I can if I wish.”

“And drive a wedge of enmity right through our family like a sword, so that Eli and Zechariah are permanently at odds, your mother is cut off from her sisters here as well as her cousin? If you do that, you’ll never be permitted back to Nazareth again, you will become a stranger to your mother, brother and sisters. Is that what you want?”

“What other alternative are you giving me apart from caving in to Eli’s will?”

“Is that such a terrible thing for a young girl? Are you really so proud that you hold your views more important than those of a pious and experienced Pharisee? If you, mistakenly, believe that you would be disobeying God, then let Eli take that responsibility from you. If you obey your duty here, there can be no divine retribution on your head.”

He is beginning to wear me down. I am heavy and oppressed, my mind is struggling to meet his arguments, but instinctively I know I must hold on for all I’m worth, even if I run out of logic to counter his pressure.

“Clopas, I’m just a weak confused girl. But this I know, God will protect me and my child if his message to me is genuine. I’ll fling myself on his mercy. If I’m wrong, I’m lost anyway. What have I got to lose?”

“Mari, you’ve got everything to lose. Your husband, your family, your reputation, and that of all of us. Don’t talk like this.”

I am too weary to resist much longer. His constant reference to my mother and Ben, Rebecca and Salome is tearing me apart. I cannot find words now, but tears are coming to my rescue. I cannot stop them, great wracking sobs are convulsing my body. I do not try to control them, but just give up and let them flow. I feel suddenly his arms about my shoulders, he is trying to comfort me. When at length I am drained of my emotional charge, he says, in a totally different voice:

“Mari, my child, my heart bleeds for you. I wish I could offer you some respite, some escape. I may think you mistaken. I cannot fault your courage. Come home now, Mari, you’ve had enough. I’ll not push you further at the moment. You’re too exhausted to think clearly enough to take a logical decision. Come, we’ll talk further with Zechariah and your aunt.”

That night, after I had endured renewed name-calling and insults from my cousins, and they had eventually given up in boredom, we lay on the roof of the little house. The others were soon asleep, but I tossed and turned, my limbs aching and sore, my heart pounding with dread and worry. I could hear the sound of voices emanating from the room below and I guessed that Clopas, Zechariah, Ruth’s husband Simon, and the women were discussing me. Occasionally I could hear raised voices, the odd snatched word, but not enough to make any sense. Eventually I drifted into a restless sleep.

I am awake long before the others, my eyelids heavy, and my mind muddled, half-dreaming still. I do not know what has woken me, I assume it is just that I was in a light sleep, the noise of livestock stirring perhaps. As I open my eyes, I realise that someone is kneeling beside me.

“It’s alright, Mari, it’s only me, Elizabeth. I could not sleep and I wondered how you were doing.”

I open my eyes wide and stare at her from my prone position, but before I can say anything, she adds:

“The others are still fast asleep, we’ll not disturb them.”

“How long have you been there kneeling by my bed?”

“A long time, Mariam, watching you toss in your sleep. You’ve been dreaming, child, your features have been agitated.”

“I haven’t slept very well.”

“No, I don’t expect you have. Did you overhear us talking last night?”

“I heard something, but couldn’t hear what you said.”

“Clopas talked to us at length about your situation. He has to go home today and is expected to take you with him. You guessed that, didn’t you?”

“I suppose I did.”

“You needn’t go, you know. Zechariah and I will let you make your home here.”

“Did you tell Clopas that you believed me?”

“Yes, Mari, of course I did and Zechariah gave his support too.”

“Did it make any difference?”

“I think we’ve confused Clopas who is torn between his concern for you and loyalty to his father.”

“What about the others, do they believe?”

She looks sadly at me, trying to find some word. Her hesitation betrays her.

“No Mari, I’m afraid they don’t. They think I’m hysterical, that my head’s been turned by my own late pregnancy, and they think you’re bad and are just using us.”

“Oh.” Elizabeth squeezes my hand and to my distress, I find she is crying.

“Auntie, if I stay here, will your friends and neighbours accept me? Will they shun you because you’ve taken me in?”

“Mari, I’ve told you, you’re welcome to stay here. What matter about the rest? God will look after us.”

I make my mind up.

“Auntie, thank you for your offer, but I will not impose upon you. My place is at home. I will go with Clopas today, and place my life in God’s hands.”

“Mari, Mari, don’t,” she wails, and I look around to see if any of the others are awake disturbed by our raised voices.

“I must,” I say with faltering resolve. “What does Zechariah think?”

“He will allow you to stay.”

“But he doesn’t want me to.”

“He is in a difficult position, Mari. He does not want to fall out with Eli and your family, not does he want complaints to be made to the Temple authorities that he is condoning adultery. But he has already learned the consequences of disobeying God’s will and he knows that if he has to make a choice, he will support you.”

“I will go.”

I pack my meagre belongings like a ghost, ignoring and ignored by the others, except for little touches by Elizabeth who is trying to hide both her distress and her relief at my decision. Zechariah has given Clopas a letter to deliver to Eli and the elders seeking clemency on my behalf, asking them to consider the consequences of countermanding God’s will, giving evidence of his own experience. I know, because Elizabeth has told me exactly what he has written. All morning I am being whispered about, but no-one says anything to my face. When the time comes for our departure, Zechariah presses me firmly to his chest and prays over me, blessing me and calling down God’s protection over me. Elizabeth enfolds me in her bosom, kisses me over and over and sobs unrestrainedly. She lifts the baby, John, into my arms and lets me have a long last cuddle. The rest studiously ignore me, until I can take it no longer.

I stand on the raised floor and clap my hands. Several heads turn towards me in astonishment.

“Listen to me everyone! I am going now so you needn’t worry about being ashamed of me any more. You probably won’t see me again, because I’m going home to Nazareth where I’m under sentence of death. I want to say goodbye. I want to thank you, Uncle Zechariah and Aunt Elizabeth, for believing me and letting me stay with you. I want you all to know that baby John is very special, he will be a great prophet. And I believe the baby growing inside me is going to be the Messiah, the saviour of our country. I believe……”

“Shut up, girl,” Simon yells at me, “for goodness sake, Zechariah, tell her to stop this madness. Clopas, get her out of here.”

“No, Simon,” says Zechariah softly, “let her speak. It is my house, and she has my permission.”

There is murmuring and whispering. I can feel the antagonism. All of a sudden I cannot think of the right words.

“You will see; God will look after me,” I finish lamely, and bury myself weeping in Elizabeth’s skirts.

I feel my head being lifted up and Zechariah’s hand resting lightly on my scalp.

“May the Lord keep you and protect you; and lift up his countenance upon you and give you peace. May he bless the fruit of your womb and preserve you to be the hope of the people Israel. Shalom.”

“Clopas, I entrust this girl to your care, to see her safely back to her home in Nazareth. In so far as you are able, I charge you to protect her against false accusations and judgements and I ask you to convey this letter to whoever would condemn her for nothing more than listening to and obeying God’s voice. Will you do this for me?”

“I will, Zechariah.”

“Then go in peace, both of you, and may the Lord be with you.”