The Madonna and the Political Prisoner

Chapter 1 AD 5 (Ab Urbe Condita 760)

I asked him, “Joshua,” I said, “do you know the answers?”

“I think I do,” he’d replied.

I was too astonished to say anything more. It seemed so precocious, so arrogant and yet it did not come over like that. He’d said it so shyly, so reluctantly. I’d asked him a direct question and he’d just answered as honestly as he could. I was awestruck. The more I thought about it, the more shaken I was. I knew now. I knew that everything I’d been told, everything I’d experienced, was part of the plan. It was all coming true. All the doubts I’d had, all the heartbreak and troubles, all the pain, all of it was worthwhile because of what my twelve year old son had just said. I should have asked him more. I should have sought his answers to the questions he’d asked those rabbis. But I was too taken aback at his reply to think of any further reposte and then he’d walked ahead by himself leaving me to ponder the implications of the words he’d just uttered. It was almost as if I feared to ask any more.

I’ve had twelve hours to reflect on the events of the last few days. I’ve not seen the boy since he uttered those words; he walked ahead to spend some time with his father. His father? That’s an irony. Joseph must have been hurt when he talked of being in his father’s house. That’s what he called the Temple. ‘His father’s house’. I’m not sure if Joseph noticed it at the time, because he was so angry at finding Joshua seemingly unconcerned at our distress. The boy just seemed to assume that we’d know where to find him. ‘In my father’s house’, he’d said, ‘I thought you’d know’. Just like that. I’m sure the pain of the phrase will have hit Joseph now.

Perhaps that’s why Joshua has gone to spend time with him. Joseph has been so good with him. He’s always looked on him as his son, he’s treated him exactly the same as the other sons he’s fathered. Sometimes I thought that he favoured James, but that was, I’m sure, because their interests and temperament were so similar. Then as the other boys and Salome and Ruth came along, he treated them all the same. But Joshua was always the eldest boy and given that due respect.

It could have been so different. My husband’s never really sought my explanation. I’ve never had to explain every detail of the boy’s conception - not that I could give him an adequate account even if I wanted to. Sometimes I thought he held back because he was fearful of the truth and wanted to believe what I’d told him. He and my mother had worked together to save me from the consequences at the hands of the Nazareth rabbis. He’d had a dream, had a revelation that he was to trust me, but I always wondered; did he manage to suspend his disbelief or were there occasions when he must have allowed a doubt to creep into his mind?

‘His father’s house’. Joshua’s words come back to me again. I remember with a shudder my time before the rabbis when I first uttered those words, ‘Please God, help me and have pity on me and on your son!’ Their fury was nothing compared with the shock I gave myself as those words were torn from my lips. I’d not planned them. They just came out in the stress of the moment. They were the last things I should have said at that crux of my judgment, yet I could not help myself. But I said it and despite the blasphemy, I survived.

There have been long periods in my life since then when nothing extraordinary has happened. Well, plenty has happened, but I could not always see what was so special. My story is not unique. Other women have babies in less than ideal situation; many others are forced to flee from oppression; too many are forced to live in abject poverty; others are then blessed after such travail with the love and responsibility of a large family.

But every so often, something does happen that renews the promise that my son is special. That he survived at all despite the threats of the rabbis and then escaped the second threat when Herod sought to kill him. The strange things that apparent strangers say, those outcast shepherds that forced their way into our cave only minutes after I’d given birth, the old couple at the Temple when we took him to be dedicated, those Babylonian astrologers, Malthus, the rabbi in Alexandria. I’m sure he knew Joshua was special although he never said anything outright. But the way he looked at the boy, the hints he dropped. I’m sure he’d guessed something.

Some of the other women had joined me and had tried to chat, but I’d been silent and they’d soon realised that I’d wanted to be alone. I didn’t know them and they didn’t know me and after an initial attempt to involve me in their chatter, they’d ceased to be curious, or if they were, they’d refrained from further questions. After we’d found Joshua, we’d waited until we’d been told of another caravan going north. It was too dangerous to go on our own, now that we’d left our village party.

Clopas and his sons were with us still – they’d been so good in coming back with us to look for Joshua. Now I think of it, we’d all taken a big risk – just the five of us going back up from the Jordan valley on the infamous Jericho – Jerusalem road through the hills infested by bandits. Luckily there were Roman foot patrols still keeping an eye on the stragglers leaving the city after the extended Passover festival. This group of villagers from the north of Galilee are travelling via the Samaritan route. They don’t seem bothered about going through potentially hostile territory as they have sufficient tents and provisions with them to not need any foreign hospitality. We’ve got a tent too, although I’ll need to get some bread and water at one of the villages we pass through tomorrow.

I catch up with Joseph and Joshua as the sun is nearing the horizon to our left behind the rolling hills. They are walking in silence, but I notice Joshua has his hand in that of his father. That’s good. I was worried that Joseph might still have been angry with the boy and might have shunned him. I wonder what Joshua has said to Joseph. Has he tried to explain his behaviour? Has Joseph thought about what the Temple rabbis said?

As I join them, Joshua gives me a quick smile, loosens his hand from Joseph’s grip and trots off to catch up his cousins, James and Jude. We are at the back of the party now. Everyone has slowed their pace, I’m sure the men ahead are now looking for a suitable place to set up the tents and settle for the night. We walk for a while in silence. I’m wondering if I should say anything. I must really.

“Are you still angry with the boy?”

Joseph doesn’t answer immediately. He is thinking. I can almost hear his brain thumping like the rhythmic sounds that emanate from our workshop.

“Of course I am, though I’ve tried to say nothing further to the boy. Not yet, anyhow. Let’s get home first, then I’ll be having a long and serious chat with him. He can’t get away with treating us like that. Whatever his excuse, he had no right to let you get so worried. It was thoughtless at best. If he knew what he was doing, it was selfish and wrong of him.”

“I’m sure it was not deliberate. He just got caught up in his discourse with the rabbis. You know when he concentrates on something, it’s as if the rest of the world is no longer there. And it’s as much our fault as his. We should have checked before we left Jerusalem. With all those crowds it was only too easy to get cut off. We should have checked, Joseph. Don’t put all the blame on the boy.”

“You’re too soft with him, Mari. You always find excuses for him. You judge him differently from our other children. They’ll notice it, you know. They’ll get jealous.”

“Well, he is different. You know that perfectly well. I try my utmost to treat him no differently to the others. But of course he is special. You know that. And finding him holding his own with those teachers of the law, well that just proves it. More than holding his own, actually. You heard what those rabbis said when they brought him to us. They were astonished at his learning and answers. I’ve always wondered when he would show signs of being the Messiah we’ve been promised. I think that was the first real clue we’ve had from Joshua himself. We mustn’t blame him for that.”

“I’ve still a good mind to have a long talk with him about thinking of us a little more – well, of you anyway. He needs to know how much we love him and that such thoughtless behaviour hurts.”

“Are you thinking of me, Joseph, or your own hurt?”

“What do you mean? I was no more upset by his absence than you were.”

“Are you sure about that? Yes, of course I was worried sick when I’d thought we’d lost him, perhaps for good. But when he talked of being in ‘his father’s house’, didn’t that upset you more? After all you’ve done for him these last twelve years fulfilling every duty of a good father, and yet he seems to imply a different allegiance. Didn’t that hurt you more?”

“Nonsense, Mari. I’ve always known he was only my son in name.”

“But to hear him say it, in the Temple of all places, in front of some of the most revered and influential rabbis in the land – didn’t that seem too pointed, too public a humiliation for you?”

“I didn’t take it that way. I’m sure the rabbis didn’t understand what he meant. If they’d really taken it in, they’d have been angry themselves, they’d have accused him of blasphemy and challenged us instead of marvelling at his wisdom. Forget it Mari. That doesn’t bother me. I just want him to grow up still respecting us as a family and not growing apart from us. I don't want him to use us before going his own way and leaving us behind, not needing us any more.”

I wonder though. The boy is growing up. That really was the first sign of his independence. He’ll always be my son, but I can’t help wondering whether his future ties to Joseph will be so strong. And the bond between a boy, especially the firstborn, and his father ought to be strong. But then, who is his father?