The Missing Madonna, Chapter 30 "Joshua grows up"

All that was a long time ago. We’re about to set off to celebrate the Passover in Jerusalem. It’s nearly seven years since I was there and I’m looking forward to seeing Elizabeth again and son, John. He must have had his ‘bar-mitzvah’ too, he’s just six months older than Joshua and we celebrated his last month. We got the message that she was still well enough to give us hospitality during the festival, though Clopas and his sons will be staying with other relatives in Bethany. I’ve left James, little Joseph and the twins Simon and Judas with my sister Salome and her husband and their three children in Kana. They’ll enjoy themselves there I know. My Salome has taken Ruth - named after my friend in Bethlehem - to be with Susannah’s children while she and her husband Joshua are with us in Jerusalem (my four year old is just the same age as Susannah’s Sarah and they are the best of friends). I’m sure she won’t miss me for a few days.

It seems strange to be going back to Jerusalem again. I gather we’re taking the Jordan route – the men say that there are problems at the moment in parts of Samaria which are best to avoid. The most dangerous part of our route is the last bit up from Jericho through the barren hills and wadis, but there will be sufficient of us to be safe and in any case, the Roman soldiers patrol the road during the time that so many pilgrims are making their way to the Temple. I remember when I went that way before, when I was pregnant with Joshua and had to try to hide it. Now look at him, twelve years old and striding with the men. He’s an adult now, it seems extraordinary. I keep wondering when he’s going to fulfill the promise we were given. Don’t get me wrong, I still believe that he’s the promised Messiah, but he’s shown no visible sign of his calling yet.

I’ve been watching him so closely now since we returned to Nazareth. He’s different, very different to his brother James, but I ask myself, isn’t that quite normal? Most siblings are different from each other – just look at my two sisters. He’s clever, there’s no doubt about that. Joel and the new rabbi, Jonas - the husband of Clopas’ sister Michal - soon picked that up and were pleased to give him extra lessons. He has a phenomenal memory and can quote great chunks of the scriptures without any apparent effort. What’s more, it’s not just rote learning. He genuinely seems to understand what he’s reading. And he likes to play games just like the others, though he’s not quite as athletic as James. I find his company very rewarding, he likes to chat with me and asks me all sorts of things. James is a typical lad – never tells his mother anything! I wonder which of them the other boys will take after. James, I shouldn’t wonder.

I often watch him playing with the other children – he doesn’t know I’m watching him, I’m sure. He has a gift with the younger children. People say I was just the same. But it’s unusual for a boy. Most children of his age are thoughtless, they don’t mean to be, but they get engrossed in what they’re doing and forget others. Joshua never seems like that. He is extraordinarily sensitive to others, he knows what they’re thinking, when to speak and when to be silent. It’s a lovely gift, but not one I associate with a great military leader which I assume is the role of the future Messiah. It was only the other day that Joel talked to me at length about the boy, for he was party to the decision to accept my claim. He asked me if I still believed. He said the boy was bright and confident but he’d seen no signs of anything abnormal. There again, he said, wasn’t Moses middle-aged before he was called to lead the Israelites out of Egypt. ‘Who are we to understand God’s ways?’ he argued. ‘We’ll just need to be patient. God will show us, I’m sure, in his good time.’

I do still believe, of course. But whether he’s to be a great soldier who’ll drive the Romans out, that’s another story. Plenty of our neighbours resent the foreign presence, but Joshua doesn’t seem interested. Perhaps that’s my fault. I’ve never found the Romans that bad. I know Eli didn’t like that and accused me of consorting with them. That was a lie, I never did, but I didn’t hate them like he did either. And Joshua doesn’t get worked up about their presence like some of the other boys do. I used to think that he might get picked on by the other boys because he’s gentler than they are, but he seems to hold his own. He’s respected. They seem to know he cares about them and I notice if any of the children are upset about something, it’s Joshua they go to first.

Clopas’ boys are both married now, of course. Both still live locally. They started their married lives in our courtyard, and when we moved out they took over the space we’d vacated. Both now have children. They have taken on the further development of Eli’s farm and vineyards although Clopas keeps a watchful eye on everything. So that brings me to my main two worries. Mother is quite crippled now, although she tries to look after the children when she can. But all seven are just too much for her even if they behave. I don’t know exactly what her problem is – it seems her joints are so stiff and painful and she is beginning to stoop even though she’s hardly forty yet. I’ve asked Salome, even though she’s only nine, to come over to see her Grandma while we’re gone and give her a hand with the water carrying and other chores. I thought of asking her to stay with mother, but Miriam has not accompanied her husband, Clopas, and said she’d keep an eye on her. I don’t think the health of my mother is a cause of real concern, but it is sad to see her so restricted in what she can do.

My other worry is Joseph. He’s built a good business since we’ve been back in Nazareth. He took over the premises of old Simeon when he became too frail to continue the heavy carpentry work and seems always to have more than enough to enable us to be self-sufficient, not like the days when we were dependent on Eli’s charity. He frightened me the other week when he complained of chest pains when he’d been doing some particularly heavy work. He said it was just a muscle strain, but he seems breathless sometimes to me and I tell him to go easily. Now Joshua is twelve he can spend some time helping Joseph, I’m sure. He still goes to the synagogue in the morning, but he can help Joseph in the afternoon. It’ll build up his muscles a bit and help him to mature as the man of the house.

I’ve talked to Joseph about it and he’s told me not to worry and let Joshua continue to study, but when I mentioned my concern to Joshua, he saw what I meant at once and I know he’s been watching his father work carefully to see how to do things properly. I wondered if Joseph should be on this arduous trip, but he is determined to accompany Joshua on his first Passover in the Temple. ‘It’s a must,’ he said, ‘he’s a man now and this is his duty.’ I’ve watched my husband carefully and he seems to be alright so far, but we’ve only been going a day and it’s been downhill so far to the river. The test will be when we have the long climb from Jericho up to Jerusalem.

Joshua’s been with the men all day today. That’s good for him, I’m sure. He’ll listen to their conversations and pick up their experiences. I’ve therefore been with a few of the other women. Most of the time I’ve walked with Susannah – she and her husband have come to the festival with two of their sons for the last couple of years as soon as they were old enough to bring. I know Joshua has been going around with them in particular, and he also likes talking to Clopas’ two young men, James and Jude who’ve had to leave their wives at home with their young children. Susannah reminded me of the conversations we shared on the last time we were walking beside the Jordan when she found out that I’d been flogged and forced my secret out of me. She quizzed me about Joshua and wanted to know if he was demonstrating any particular abilities yet.

We camped beside the river last night and continued along the narrow path beside the Jordan this morning. This means we are strung out over quite a distance as we can only go two abreast at some points along the way. To my surprise Joshua drops back to walk with me. For a long time he is silent. Then suddenly, when we are far enough away from anyone so that we cannot be overheard, he suddenly speaks.

“Mother, can I ask you something?”

“Of course, son.”

“It’s personal. You won’t mind, will you?”

“Go ahead. I’ll do my best to be truthful.”

I wonder what on earth is coming. Have I been rash to promise to be honest with him? He makes me quite uncomfortable sometimes as though he knows what I’m thinking.

“Mother, I hear rumours about my birth. I heard someone say that you were not married when you had me and that the rabbis nearly had you stoned to death. And yet you were saved. Is it true?”

I pause for a long time. I have always dreaded this question. I knew it would come one day. I’ll have to do my best and pray that God will cause my words to come out right.

“Yes, son, it is true. But it’s a long story.”

“Can you tell me? I want to know.”

For the next hour I tell him everything, how I kept meeting the stranger, what he told me, how he was conceived, Eli’s wrath and my ordeals before the rabbis. I don’t elaborate on this but skip to my meeting with Elizabeth and Zechariah and then my return and Zechariah’s letter and Joseph’s dream and how I was saved.

Joshua thinks for a long time.

“Did they hurt you, mother?”

I’d said that I would be honest.

“Yes.”

“What did they do?”

“It doesn’t matter, Joshua, you don’t need to know that. God protected me and kept me safe.”

“Please mother, tell me, I need to know.”

“Why, Joshua, why?”

“I don’t know. But I just need to know.”

“They flogged me, Joshua and told me to get rid of you.”

“But you didn’t.”

“No.”

“So what did they do then?”

“They brought me before the rabbi’s court in the synagogue and threatened to stone me to death.”

“And you didn’t do what they wanted.”

“No, Joshua.”

“And God saved you.”

“Yes. And he saved you too.”

“I thought so.”

“You thought so? How Joshua? How do you know that? Who has spoken to you about this?”

“I think I’ve always known. I know you nearly sacrificed yourself for me. One day I’ll have to do the same.”

“What do you mean, Joshua? What are you saying?”

“I don’t know yet. I just feel it. I want you to tell me everything you did, what they did to you, how you felt. I need to know.”

“Why Joshua, why do you need to know?” And I start to cry. As I try to tell him, it all comes back. I don’t want to say, I want to protect him, but he puts his arms around my shoulders and for a few minutes it is as though I’m the child and he’s the adult.

When I have stumbled through my confession of my humiliation and punishments, he just looks at me.

“Thank you for telling me, mother. I understand. It makes sense.”

“It makes sense? How can you say that?”

“I understand some of the things the prophet Isaiah said now. You think I’m special in some way don’t you?”

“Of course, Joshua. Every mother thinks that of her sons.”

“I’ve got to think about what you’ve said.”

And with that he strides on ahead and rejoins his cousins. I walk on in silence on my own. What have I done? What have I started? Is this the sign? Does he know he is the Messiah after all?

I don’t even see him for the next two days. I think he’s somewhere ahead with some of the men. I walk with Susannah again until we leave the Jordan. For a long time I wonder if I should confide in her again. We see Jericho in the distance where we will camp the night. Just before we break up, I hold Susannah by the arm.

“He knows.”

She asks no questions. She understands exactly what I mean.