Three Days: A Mother's Story (3 page)

I nodded. “Yes, I knew this would be difficult. But I am praying that Jehovah will show you the truth.”

“The truth?” He exhaled loudly and folded his arms across his chest as he looked down on me. I could tell by his gaze that he considered me as something dirty, something beneath him, something he would not willingly associate himself with any longer than necessary. “I can
see
the truth, Mary,” he said in a surprisingly calm but sad voice. “You have been away for three long months. You come back wearing fine clothing and gold bracelets, and now you tell me you are with child. The truth is quite obvious.”

“That is not—”

He held up his hand to stop my words. “Silent, woman!”

I just nodded and waited for his wrath to continue.

He stood there for a long time, and I could tell that he was thinking, perhaps deciding how he would deal with me. I am sure he assumed that my fate was in his hands. According to our culture, it was. However, I knew that only Jehovah controlled my future. And so I waited.

“I think it is best to handle this as quietly as possible,” he finally told me. “You will go away . . . perhaps back to your relatives in the hills of Judah or wherever you have been. We will make an excuse, explaining that there has been a misunderstanding, that I have changed my mind in regard to taking you as—” He actually choked. “As my bride.”

Then he turned and walked away.

I tried to remember Elizabeth’s words just then, her admonition to trust Jehovah despite how things might look. But it was not easy.

Perhaps faith is like that—it is
not
easy. But, in a way, it is very simple. We cannot do it by ourselves, that is obvious. But when we turn to the Lord God Jehovah, he gives us what we are lacking—faith. That is where I am tonight. It is
not
easy. Nothing about this excruciating day has been easy. But I will not make it through this night without faith.
Please,
Lord, increase my faith that I might survive until morning.

4

SOME NIGHTS MAKE  YOU long for the dawn. And yet when the sun finally starts to rise, you want it to be gentle and kind, perhaps veiled by the clouds, easing you into the day that may devour you before it is even half over.

That is how I felt the morning after my conversation with Joseph. I knew he had been gracious, all things considered, but I also knew that this was just the sort of situation where a man might change his mind. For instance, he still had his family to discuss the dissolution of our engagement with. What if they became enraged by what they would surely suspect as my unfaithfulness to him? What if they refused to accept his “excuses” for ending our agreement? There was potential for all sorts of things to go wrong. Still, I tried to remain faithful to Jehovah’s plan, making an effort not to dwell on the potential pitfalls. I knew the only thing I could really do was wait.

My mother avoided my eyes that morning. I suspect that she also knew that my future was hanging in the balance, and I suppose she thought she could postpone the inevitable by ignoring me altogether. In fact, it seemed that everyone in my family had been treating me differently since my visit with Elizabeth. Except for Asher, although even he seemed somewhat uncomfortable since we had gotten home.

Fortunately for me, the garden had been neglected during my absence and there was much to be done in order to bring it back into the pristine condition I always tried to maintain. It provided a good distraction for me during that long day of waiting. And as I weeded I tried to stifle any visions of my being dragged through the streets of Nazareth by Joseph’s indignant family and then thrown down before the village priests and elders as I was accused of my crime—fornication or possibly adultery, since our engagement was a legally binding commitment—and then given my sentence. But sometimes, when I least expected it, this image would flash through my mind with the speed of a cast stone, and all I could do was take in a deep breath and pray.

I am sure I jumped when I heard Joseph saying my name.

“Mary?”

I dropped the piece of twine that I had been about to use to tie up the grape vine that was hanging down in the dirt. Still stooped down like an animal caught in a trap, I glanced over my shoulder. Part of me expected to see his angry brothers clustered behind him, ready to dish out my fate. But Joseph appeared to be alone.

“Joseph,” I said calmly as I stood straight, wiping my dusty hands on the sides of one of my older tunics, not nearly so fine as what I had worn the night before. Then I pushed a fallen strand of hair back beneath my veil and held my shoulders back and waited.

“Mary,” he said again, but the tone of his voice was gentle. And then, to my utter astonishment, he fell down on both knees before me, taking my right hand in his. “I am so sorry.”

“For what?” I asked, longing for him to get back to his feet.

“For not believing you.”

I felt my eyes growing large. “But you do believe me now?”

He nodded. “An angel of the Lord appeared to me last night. It was incredible, Mary. He told me that all that you said is true. He told me many things. He even told me what we are to name our son.”

“
Our
son?” I felt tears filling my eyes. I went down on my knees in front of Joseph.

“Yes, Mary,
our
son. We will soon be married, and you will give birth to the Son of God, just as you told me, and I will take care of both of you.”

“Oh, Joseph!”

Now, in all honesty, I can say that this is the very moment when I really began to love this man. And this was a love that grew and grew over the years. I know now it was no mistake that God chose sweet Joseph to be my husband and to help me raise and care for our son.

“I am so sorry,” he said again, and I saw that tears were filling his eyes. “I will never doubt you again.”

We both slowly rose to our feet, and then we embraced. I still remember the feeling of his strong arms around me. I knew that this good man was able to protect me. I remember the deep sigh of relief that escaped my lips just then.

And then we stepped apart. I think we were both slightly embarrassed by our first open display of affection for one another. But I knew that something miraculous had happened in that moment. I knew that God had knit our hearts together as one. And just as I felt encouraged when my cousin Elizabeth had believed in me, I felt even more so now with my betrothed.

“We will marry as soon as possible,” Joseph told me as I wiped my tears.

“Joseph?” I said suddenly.

“Yes, dear one?”

“What is his name?”

“Jesus,” Joseph said with authority. “His name is to be called Jesus.” Then he looked down upon me with the most tender expression I had ever seen, and I knew without doubt that my future would be safe in the hands of this man—and in the hands of Jehovah.

Tonight, as much as I longed for that unwavering strength of my good and gentle husband, I am thankful that Joseph did not have to witness the events of this awful day. I fear it would have broken his heart completely. For Joseph always loved Jesus just as dearly as if he had been his own flesh and blood. In fact, there were times when our other children accused their father of favoritism. But then I suppose all children fret about this sort of nonsense.

But I know that if Joseph had been alive to see what happened in Jerusalem today, he would have thrown himself at the Roman guards who were mercilessly beating Jesus. He would have attempted to stop them, and I am sure he would have even tried to take Jesus’s torture upon himself. That is how much he loved our son. And it would have killed him. I wonder if my Joseph watched these atrocities from paradise today. And, if he could see, I wonder if he, like me, still weeps.

5

THEY SAY THAT TEARS last for the night but joy comes in the morning. I fear that is not true today. For even as the sky changes from slate to pale gray, I feel no joy. Only a vast, sad emptiness that fills every corner of my soul. No one is stirring as I slip out to the terrace to view the breaking of the dawn. I am slightly surprised that the sun has even risen today. I am disturbed that it has the nerve to show its face around here after the Son of God was put to death only yesterday. There is some satisfaction in seeing a thick layer of clouds obscuring much of the light. Perhaps those clouds might even bring rain. I do not think I can abide a cheerful blue sky today.

I sit down on a bench and force my mind to remember another day that I can dwell in for a while. I recall another time when I rose early like this to greet the dawn. Indeed, that was a happy day. It brimmed with hope and expectation, and I could not wait for it to begin. Now, you might think my wedding day was a somber and anticlimactic affair, especially after all that Joseph and I had been through. But that is not how I saw it. Not at all! I welcomed that day with an open heart—I could not wait for the festivities to begin.

I am certain my parents were greatly relieved that Joseph and I were going ahead with our wedding. And when Joseph asked to push the day forward, he received no resistance from my parents. In some ways it was as if the entire town was relieved. My sister Sarah said there had been rumors circulating at the well, but, being a loyal sister, she did all she could to stifle them. And, apparently, her efforts paid off, for everyone seemed thoroughly glad that Joseph and I were celebrating our nuptials.

It was not a large wedding, but it was a joyous one. I wore my finest clothes and even the gold bracelets and earrings Elizabeth had given me for this special day. We had plenty of good food and music and wine, and our guests remained happy and stayed long into the night. Indeed, our wedding was remembered as one of Nazareth’s happiest affairs. It was even on this occasion when Sarah’s future husband first noticed her. He was a merchant from Cana, and Sarah still claims it was because he was so impressed with my wedding that he pursued her. But at the time I reminded her that she was becoming a beautiful young woman.

She laughed. “If only I could grow to be half as beautiful as you.”

“Silly girl,” I told her. “You are already twice as lovely.”

But I suppose I actually did feel beautiful on my wedding day. I had no illusions about my physical appearance, for I have never considered myself a beauty. But I did feel truly beautiful on the inside. I am sure that, more than anything else, this had to do with the secret blessing that slept within my womb. But I was surprised when numerous friends and relatives proclaimed my beauty with happy toasts. Of course, some of them were feeling the afterglow of the music and wine, but I received their compliments with grace, smiling quietly to myself.

Yet it was the expression on Joseph’s face that I will always remember about that day. It was a certain moment as we stood beneath the canopy and said our vows. It was an unforgettable look of true love and adoration. I have no doubt that I was truly beautiful in my husband’s eyes that day and always. However, I must admit to feeling a bit guilty, or maybe it was just sympathy for my dear bridegroom, when he finally took me to the sweet little house he had prepared for us right next to his widowed mother’s home.

He had somehow found the time to create several well-made pieces of furniture for our own use—a low table, a bench and a stool, and a lovely carved trunk. The small space was clean and orderly. But when I saw the bed off in the corner, a sturdy pallet constructed, I knew, by my beloved’s own two hands, I looked at him with troubled eyes. To my relief, he simply laughed.

“No need to worry, dear Mary,” he said in a reassuring voice. “The angel made it very clear that I am not to take you as my wife until after God’s Son is born. And, have no fear, I am prepared to wait for you.”

I reached out and hugged him, telling him once again how much I loved him.

“But know this,” he said as he took my face into his two hands. “I greatly look forward to that day, my love.”

So it was that we slept together side by side in our wedding bed without having sexual relations. And so it continued for the next six months. I knew that Joseph loved me and even that he desired me in the way a husband desires his wife. But not one time did he pressure me. Not only was Joseph a good man, but he had more integrity than any man I have ever known—even my own father, and I always felt that no one would ever measure up to him.

But here is what I still find very interesting as I recall those first months of our marriage—during that time of restraint and self-control, my husband and I became very intimate. Not on a physical level, of course. Although, it was amusing how everyone in our families assumed we were physically intimate and even teased us for looking so happy all the time. But we drew very close on a deep emotional level—or perhaps it was spiritual. All I knew was that it was a level of intimacy I had never experienced before. Nor do I expect to experience it again.

My sweet Joseph. Jehovah knew exactly what he was doing when he chose this dear man to be my husband and Jesus’s earthly father. The Lord God made no mistake in selecting Joseph the carpenter of Nazareth. Sometimes I even wonder if God did not choose Joseph first and then me later. I remember telling Joseph this very thing once, and he laughed so hard. Of course, he told me I had it all backward.

Even so, I have marveled at how some (those who believe in my son’s deity) have treated me with such awe-filled reverence and respect—and really it was Joseph who wielded the most earthly influence on Jesus’s life. In some ways, I was only the earthen vessel that poured God’s Son into his human life. But it was Joseph who cared for us and provided for us, who protected us, and who faithfully taught Jesus everything from the Shema to how to make a perfectly fitting oxen yoke. Perhaps someday people will acknowledge my Joseph, honoring him for all he so willingly contributed to God’s own Son. Or maybe not. Maybe we shall all be forgotten, blown away like the chaff from the grain. It is so hard—even in the light of day—not to give in, not to surrender to this cloak of despair.