The Madonna and the Political Prisoner, Chapter 22/1

Chapter 22 AD 26

Lazarus’s sisters spent yesterday gathering together the ingredients for two Passover meals. They are going to celebrate the feast at their home with cousins and neighbours, while we go into Jerusalem with Joshua and the disciples. Mary, Salome and Susannah and I are going to get the meal cooked and laid out while the men spend another day at the Temple. Joshua has arranged a place where we can eat the meal undisturbed. He’s told us how to find it, but it all seems very secret as he doesn’t want to risk being found and stopped before he’s had this meal with us.

I had the most almighty row with James last night. He told me I had to go back with him to Nazareth and leave Joshua to his fate and of course I refused. He said he’d physically force me to go with him, and I said ‘How? Are you going to tie your old mother up and kidnap her?’ And he told me not to be a silly old… I won’t tell you what he called me – it was most unseemly for any son to address his mother that way and I was ashamed of him, especially as Mary and Salome both heard him. Then John heard him and came to my rescue only to get lambasted by James in his turn. Finally Joshua overheard the row and told James to shut up in a very decisive way. I’ve never heard him so commanding with his brother before, it finished the argument there and then and left James astounded and floundering. In the end James just said weakly that he was going home and that I could go with him if I changed my mind. He stalked off to bed in a great sulk and Joshua stayed with me. He saw how upset and shaken I was.

“Thank you, Mother, for being determined to stay with me. I value your support and love, especially now. But you know at one level he’s right, don’t you? The next few hours will be very hard for us all. They will arrest me. They will execute me. I’ve said too much to damage them and they will not accept such criticism. They’re jealous of their authority, their power and they’re afraid of the reaction of the Romans if they let me get away with it. They’re petrified that I’ll stir up the population and cause riots, a rebellion and bring the Romans down on their heads and sweep away all their privileges. They’ve not understood my message at all. They’ve not listened. Their hearts are like stone, they’re deaf to God’s message to them and the nation.”

“Do you have to say these things? If you know the consequences, can’t you find any other way?”

“I’ve been thinking about this moment for over three years, Mother. I knew it would come to this sooner or later. I can’t escape the consequences of my purpose on earth. I’ve got to show that God’s way is a way of love, not power or force. I have power, yes, but it’s a very different type of power from that understood by my opponents, James and even my disciples on occasions. I have to stand up to evil. I have to stand for the downtrodden and the oppressed. I have to show that the power of love is stronger than the power of force or greed or ambition. If I were to retreat now I would be bowing before these earthly powers and accepting defeat. My power is a spiritual one and I want others to recognise and share that power. It will ultimately overcome even though things may appear dark and broken. You’ll need all your strength, Mother, but don’t despair, however black things look. Trust me, hang on to that. God loves us and he will not let us down.”

“But aren’t you afraid, Joshua? If what you say is right, won’t you suffer dreadful things? I can’t imagine the pain and distress. There must be another way for you.”

“Yes, I am afraid. I wouldn’t be human if I wasn’t. You must realise that I’ve spent the last few months figuring out if there was an alternative. There isn’t, not without destroying the very purpose for which I’ve come.”

“Who are you?” I asked. Just who are you?”

He looked at me.

“Mother, you’ve known since you were twelve years old who I am. Do I need to spell it out to you?”

I thought back to the visits of the stranger in Nazareth, the mysterious conversations with him, the encounter in the stream, my outburst before the rabbis in the synagogue, the strange visitors at Joshua’s birth, that time in the Temple when I asked him if he knew the answers and he replied, ‘I think I do.’

Before I could answer, he asked me, “Do you know who I am?”

“I think I do,” I answered.

* * * * *

So, as I said, we set off early this morning. Despite insisting he’d leave on his own, James has come too. I really didn’t think he’d carry out his threat. We all walked together as far as the Golden Gate, then Joshua directed Mary to the room where we were to have the Passover supper. I watched Joshua and the others go with some trepidation. Will I see him again or will his enemies pounce before he’s even had the special meal with us? We soon find the room, an upstairs room in a large house near the edge of the city nearest to the Jericho road. To my surprise there’s no sign of life in the rest of the house, which is locked. Mary has the key to the room where we are to eat the supper and we find cooking implements laid out near the stove as though we are expected.

When the herbs and bread are placed on dishes and put on the low table in the centre of the room and the lamb offering is gently stewing in the large cooking pot on the stove, we rest. A group of disciples’ wives are bored and decide to go into the city crowds and watch the pilgrims coming from all parts of the Roman Empire, Jews talking a host of unknown languages. I’m invited to join them, but I say that I want to stay and rest and Mary, Salome and Susannah decide to remain with me. There is little to do, but await the meat to be done, just giving the stew an occasional stir. Someone has put two large water jars in the corner of the room. There are jars of wine. Someone has been here and got everything ready for us. I wonder who it is; perhaps the owner of the property, obviously a wealthy man, is secretly an admirer of my son. We all look at each other. Then I notice that Mary has been crying.

“What’s the matter, Mary?” I ask.

She looks at me, then all of us. Her eyes are very red, she must have been crying for sometime and none of us have noticed. I feel bad about that.

“I have a nasty premonition, Mari. Joshua has been so sad these last couple of days, despite the adulation of the crowds. I think he knows what is going to happen and I’m frightened for him. I even wonder if we’ll see him again. What if the Temple Guards are waiting to arrest him this morning as soon as he arrives?”

“Surely not,” says Susannah. “There’ll be crowds again just like there have been all this week. They wouldn’t dare. If they tried, the crowd would go mad and they’d have Roman soldiers to contend with. They won’t try on anything today.”

“I wish I had your confidence.” It’s my sister, Salome, who intervenes now. “I don’t like it. I expected to see rabbis and priests throwing questions at Joshua yesterday, but they were absent. They’re up to something. What do you think, Mari?”

Shall I tell them what Joshua has said to me? It’ll only upset Mary more, but they’ll soon guess that I’m hiding the truth.

“I think the situation is bad. Joshua told me himself last night. He expects to be arrested. I hardly slept a wink worrying about it.”

“What will they do to him? Will he be put in prison like John was?”

Again, I wonder whether to tell them everything Joshua said to me.

“They could kill him. They’ll accuse him of blasphemy and the penalty is death.”

Mary bursts into tears again. I shouldn’t have said that.

Between her tears she mumbles “They can’t do that here, not in Jerusalem. Only the Romans can authorise an execution and they don’t recognise blasphemy as a crime.”

I don’t like to tell her that if the Jewish leaders are determined to kill him, they’ll trump up some other charge that does carry a penalty of crucifixion. But I do pass on the conversation that Joshua had with me last night.

“He is expecting the worst. He is determined to face up to them and not flinch. It’s admirable in many ways but I do wish he was not so single-minded about his mission if it has these consequences.”

“But doesn’t that put all of us in danger? Won’t they arrest his disciples too?”

“I don’t care. If they kill him, they can kill me too! If he dies I might as well be dead.” This outburst comes from Mary’s lips. Her eyes look wild, her eyes bloodshot, she’s torn off her shawl and I see her hair is tangled. I guess she didn’t have much sleep last night either.

We try to change the subject and find another topic of conversation but we cannot concentrate. There are long silences then suddenly two of us will speak at once. Time is dragging, we are waiting for our menfolk to return, but it’s barely noontide yet. We eat a little of the bread and take a few mouthfuls of water, we want nothing more. Then we lie down and try to get some sleep but no sleep will come to me. I think Susannah and Salome have dozed off, but Mary, like me, just tosses and turns.

My imagination is running riot. I see again the mangled corpses on the crosses in Nain when I went there as a girl to the festival and remember looking with pity at a young man contorted in agony and feeling such pain myself until my mother called me away. And, in my imagination, the face of that young man I saw so many years ago changes to the face of my beloved son, then I awake for I realise I must have dozed off. Then I know it was the sound of the disciples’ wives returning, Susannah heard them and got up and unlocked the door and they are around us now, all talking at once. I wait for their excited chatter to moderate a little, then I ask the question we all really want to put.

“Did you see Yeshua, Joshua, my son?”

“Yes, we went to the Temple. He’s talking to the crowds on the Temple steps. There are more people there than ever.”

“Were the priests and Pharisees there? Did they ask him any trick questions?”

“No. We saw no sign of any of them.” It’s John’s mother, Dorcas, who replies. “It was good-humoured, the crowd was excited at what Yeshua was saying. And we saw him heal a couple of beggars that had been brought to him – I think they were both blind.”

“Are you sure there weren’t any priests or rabbis?” Mary is not satisfied and shows her anxiety. “They could be deliberately keeping their heads down.”

“Well, if that’s the case we wouldn’t see them, would we?” It’s Thomas’s wife, Lydia, who speaks up now. “All I can say is that it all seems calm so far. I know Yeshua has been warning the men of the dangers they’re running, but my husband says that he’s just testing them and he doesn’t really believe the authorities will dare arrest him while there are so many in the city up for the Passover. It could inflame the crowds and cause a riot. In any case, Yeshua goes out of the city every night. He knows what he’s doing. He’s been saying similar things for three years now and despite upsetting the Pharisees and rabbis in many places, no-one has dared do anything about it other than engage him in argument. And then they always lose,” she adds.

Mary is shaking her head. She doesn’t believe this. She knows what Joshua has said and how accurate he’s always been in his forecasts. And she’s sensed how determined he is now and the depth of his anguish. I feel it too, although I try to find a glimmer of light. But in my heart of hearts I have to admit to myself that it doesn’t look good. I’ve been praying, but for what should I pray? Just for my son to be saved from this situation? It’s not what he’s praying for. I heard him yesterday – he’s asking for the courage to go through with it. I want him to be able to stand up for what is right, to tell out God’s message loud and clear and I want the outcome to be a miraculous acceptance of this message by everyone, especially the authorities, but I know this is just wishful thinking.