The Missing Madonna, Chapter 27 "Night Questions"

We’re nearly home. Just one more day’s march and then we’ll be there. I’m thankful that there’s a big group of us because I got a bit nervous when we passed through the barren hills of Lower Samaria. There are said to be many bandits waylaying and robbing travellers there. It’s funny, when I travelled back this way just with Clopas after I’d attended John’s birth, I wasn’t frightened at all. Perhaps it was that I was more concerned with what was going to happen to me once I got back to Nazareth and had to reveal to the rabbis that I was still carrying the child. Or perhaps because I had no-one else to worry about then, and no material goods of any sort to be stolen from me. Now it is different. I have three beloved children and a husband to care for not to mention my cousins and the rest of the family. But we’re a big crowd, there must be more than fifty of us, from Nain as well as Nazareth, so any bandits have stayed well clear of us. I still felt uneasy though. I felt eyes were watching us as we trod the otherwise deserted highway and I was relieved when we came across inhabited villages again.

Anyway, those thoughts are being pushed out of my mind now as I lay here in the darkness of our tent. The children are asleep at last and I can hear Joseph snoring softly beside me. It’s three days now since we bade Elizabeth and John farewell. I still remember every word of the last long conversation I had with my aunt. “Don’t prejudge anything,’ she told me. ‘Let God show you in his own good time. You’ll know, just as you did before. Even when Zechariah died, I felt God was near me, guiding me in the nurture of my son, because he too has been promised an illustrious part to play that will in time be subservient to your son.’ I tried to assure her that her son would be as blessed as mine but she was adamant. Joshua would be the Messiah, John was just to help prepare people to recognise him when the time was right. Elizabeth’s words are so comforting when others are sceptical or disbelieve me outright. She helps me reaffirm my own faith when I begin to wobble.

It’s very still outside the tent. The sounds of movement have ceased at last. I slip as quietly as I can outside without disturbing my sleeping family and gasp as the night sky embraces me into its fathomless orbit. The vast expanse sparkles as myriads of stars illuminate the night, casting a pale glow over the gentle slope opposite with a couple of bare trees silhouetted darkly against the dim horizon. I feel God’s presence here. I try to find some words but I am speechless. The awesomeness of my life, chosen out of this limitless universe pierces me. Why me, God, why did you choose me? What have I done to be worthy of all this? I don’t feel equal to the task you’ve promised for me, my God. I have to trust you. I have to believe that everything I’ve already been through, experienced, was part of the plan you have for me and my son. Yet it seems so improbable. Our nation has been praying and yearning for a saviour for centuries. Why now, oh God, why now? Are the Romans so bad that you want a king of our nation to arise to throw off this imposition and rule for the Jews alone? Will my son be a Moses, a David? They were of humble origins too, though both were plucked to be the scions of pharaohs and kings. Will Joshua be taken from me by Herod’s sons and made their brother, or will he even be adopted by the Roman Emperor or will he lead the freedom fighters just like my father, but drive all the foreigners off our soil? Which will it be, Lord God? Should I try to influence him or is it all in your hands?

Yet somehow, the thought of all this bothers me. It doesn’t seem right. I know my father hated the Romans and our countrymen who supported them, but he wanted to avenge my grandfather and my uncles whom I never knew. But Herod is gone now, they say he died a horrible and painful death. And the Romans I know have not harmed us. Many Egyptians seemed to be pleased for their presence, I heard people say that they had brought order and peace and had reduced the lawlessness. I still remember the Roman soldier who saved me and he seemed fair despite the fact that my father’s band was scattered and killed, but that was perpetrated by Herod’s soldiers. Am I really to go through all that turmoil again with my son re-enacting the actions and fate of my father?

Or will he be different? If I counsel him into the ways of peace and love for his fellow human beings, will I be diverting him from his calling? Tell me, God, show me what I ought to say and do. If you really think I’m worthy to be the Messiah’s mother, then surely you must expect me to influence him in the ways you want him to develop? Is it wrong for me to want peace? To want my people to be happy? To want my sisters to have a life that is not filled with drudgery? And what about the friends I met in Egypt? Are they included in God’s plans? Will it just include the Jews in Egypt? What about those living in squalor in Pelusium? Can I help Nathaniel and Naomi and little Annie through things Joshua will achieve? Will he one day bring them home like Moses?

It’s getting cool, I must have been out here longer than I thought. I slip back inside the flap of our tent and note with relief that all is quiet. None of them has stirred. I lie down, but still my thoughts whir round my brain. Tomorrow I’ll see my mother and my sisters and little Ben again. How will we react? Will it seem just as though I’d never left or will all have changed so drastically that we are strangers? Will my mother accept me and the children with open arms and heart or will she blame me for being away so long and neglecting her? Will she see Joshua as special or will she just see everything that happened as the best way of obtaining my release from condemnation? Did she see the miracle of Joshua’s conception and birth as a fairy tale that she had to go along with to obtain my rescue from the judgement of Eli and the other rabbis? Did she really believe the dream that appeared to so convince Joseph of my innocence or did they plot together knowingly to save me from an ignominious and shameful execution? My excitement is tinged with nervousness. After all this, I fear anti-climax, disappointment. My heart says all will be well, joyful, yet I worry. I know I will be happy to be back, but will they really be glad to see me after so long?

I hope the reaction of Clopas and his children is the sign of what is to come. They were so surprised and seemed genuinely overjoyed to see us. Mo especially just came straight to me as if I’d never gone away – it’s a wonder she still remembers me. And Clopas seemed so warm. I think he always had a soft spot for me even when he was acting as Eli’s messenger and mouthpiece. I still remember our first homecoming when he brought me back from Ein-Karem and when he was expecting me to be judged. He cared, I know he did. He wanted me to run away and take my chance rather than risk his father’s condemnation of me.

I try to picture my sisters and brother, but my image of them is still that of the farewell nearly five years ago, when tearful Ben had clutched and torn my precious shawl. Or of Salome and Rebecca curled up beside me in the fields as I reveal my secret to them and they are open mouthed in wonder – believing everything without any hesitation. But how much will they have changed – a tomboy of seven will now be a demure young lady of twelve. Or will she? I try to think what I was like at twelve. A bit of a handful, I think my mother would have said. Certainly not a demure young lady. I know Joseph was quite shocked at my boldness and questions. I wonder if Rebecca is the same or whether she has calmed down. Salome was always the quieter and more serious one. Susannah said that she’d been very upset after my departure. Will she be pleased to see me again? She’ll be thirteen now, I wonder if she is already promised in marriage.

I suppose Clopas will be negotiating on the family’s behalf now – that’s better than Eli anyway. And he hinted that they’d wait a while, thirteen is very young, though I say so myself. I was lucky in the end and was given to a man who was kind. I shudder to think of what my life would now be like if I’d been betrothed to that man from Father’s rebel band that Eli tried to match me with. Will they let my sisters choose? I had to fight to get my way, just like Ruth and Nathan had in Bethlehem. But here in Nazareth, could one escape the traditions as easily as near the city of Jerusalem? I rebelled, but did tradition reassert itself once I had gone and normality reigned once more? Questions, questions, questions. My mind will not be still. I cannot sleep. Tomorrow will be a tumultuous day, I know it. But of what kind? I toss and turn and still the thoughts and questions keep coming? Will I ever sleep?

I suppose sleep eventually comes, for my mind has confusing pictures, as though I’m back in the synagogue arguing, running but my legs won’t move, I’m trapped. Then I hear crying and I stir. I think it’s Salome, but the child is still asleep. Then as I come round, I hear Joshua sobbing softly. What’s wrong? He never wakes in the night. Is he ill? I take him in my arms and try to console him. He snuggles in my arms and goes straight back to sleep. Perhaps he was dreaming, a nightmare? I hold him in my arms and my beleaguered mind ceases its incessant worrying. I look at his face, the muscles of which are relaxing under my very gaze. This is no warrior, I think. This is my lovely child, a little boy, my son, my life, my James’ and Salome’s brother. An ordinary little boy and precious member of our family.

I hold him until the dawn begins to break. There is no point in sleeping now. I am ready for the day ahead. It is in your hands, I pray to God, and am content to leave it there.