The Handmaid and the Carpenter

  From across the courtyard, a neighbor called out to Joachim. He was pulling behind him a listless goat. The animal took a step and hesitated, took another and lay down. “Speak with my husband later!” Anne called out, but it was useless; already Joachim had knelt down and put his hand to the animal’s head and was speaking softly to it. Anne crossed her arms and shook her head, but she was smiling. She waved her hand in dismissal and went back inside.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Jerusalem

  FEBRUARY, 3 B.C.

  Joseph

  HE LAWS IN LEVITICUS DICTATED THAT A woman was to be purified thirty-three days after her son’s circumcision. The night before Joseph and Mary were to begin the journey to Jerusalem for that purpose, Joseph lay wide awake on his pallet.

  In keeping with tradition, he would bring Mary to the temple. There, they would make an offering to the priest for a sacrifice that would recognize God’s sovereignty and express gratitude for a healthy delivery. Mary would enter the mikvah, the ritual bath required of any woman who had given birth. Three times, she would immerse herself in shoulder-high rain or spring water, reciting blessings. Joseph imagined her dark hair floating about her as she lowered herself beneath the surface of the water, then flattening against her back when she rose up. He saw her emerging from the pool and being wrapped by the attendant in a white flax towel. He saw her face lifted in joy as she was pronounced clean. It was what he had so longed for, this purification ceremony, because it would give him his wife as she should be. But now he felt a terrible uncertainty.

  Mary had never deviated in any way from what she had told him about the angel’s visit to her and her pregnancy—not with her voice, not with her eyes, not in her demeanor. When she slept, she was soundless, her face as blankly innocent as a child’s. She was innocent, if you were to believe her. Odd, then, that she accepted as a matter of course—indeed accepted without question or comment—entering the living waters of the mikvah to be cleansed in the same way as women who had lain with men.

  He rose up on one elbow and turned toward Mary, watching her sleep by the thin light of the moon. She lay on her side, her hands open and relaxed. Her breathing was deep and even, her brow smooth as marble. He touched her shoulder. Her breathing altered just slightly, then returned again to normal. As for the baby, Jesus, he too was awake. Calm and utterly silent in Mary’s arms, he turned now to regard Joseph.

  Joseph stared into the infant’s eyes for a long moment. Then he lay flat on his back, sighed quietly, and slept.

  MARY AND JOSEPH arrived at the temple in the late morning, after having traveled the short distance from the village where they had spent the night before. At the north gate, Joseph presented the priest their offering for the sacrifice: two pigeons, a poor man’s substitute for the preferred lamb and turtledove. Even so, Joseph had paid a handsome price for the birds; the vendors near the temple took advantage of the fact that pilgrims relied on them to sell unblemished animals that the priest would accept. Joseph had brought from home his own grain and wine to be added to the offering.

  As her baby slept soundly in Mary’s arms, she and Joseph moved to the south gate of the temple, where for some time they stood wordless, looking up at the grand structure—with its plazas and immensely long porticos, it occupied some thirty-five acres. At the center was the white marble sanctuary and its altar of gold. No one could go to the innermost room but the high priest, and he himself went only one day a year, on the Day of Atonement.

  Joseph shook his head slowly as he looked about. Here in this most magnificent place were priests descended from Aaron in the time of Moses. He suppressed a tremble; the sacredness! It seemed held in the very air around them—he could feel it, almost hear it, and it created in him a deep longing that brought tears to his eyes. Quickly, he took Mary’s arm to lead her up the wide stairs and into the courtyard where they would conduct their business: Mary would be purified, and the child officially presented to God. And then they would journey back to Nazareth, and begin at last to live a normal life.

  WHEN THEIR OBLIGATIONS were fulfilled, Joseph drew himself up happily. “And now let us finally go home.”

  Mary walked quickly beside him, her footsteps echoing on the floor. She laughed out loud, then asked, “Do you remember, my husband, when I longed so to live in the city?”

  He looked at her, one eyebrow raised. “I do.”

  “Never has our quiet village seemed more attractive! I now appreciate everything about it: the beauty of the green hills, the purity and abundance of the water from the spring, the rows of vines in my father’s vineyard.”

  “The quiet!” Joseph said.

  “Yes. The quiet also, that lets us hear the birds in the air and the sheep in the pastures. And I understand as well the value of the simplicity of our life. I love my friends and relatives. In Nazareth, I know everyone.”

  “I suppose you will be disappointed, then, when I tell you I have found work in Jerusalem,” Joseph said.

  She stopped walking and turned to him.

  “I shall work on the temple, but only for fifty years or so.”

  She realized then his joking, and smiled at him. “Let us go home.”

  As they were nearing the staircase, they were accosted by an old man who appeared from around a corner. He took Jesus from Mary’s arms, looked heavenward, and exclaimed, “Bless you, Lord! For now I may die in peace, according to your word.” To the startled Joseph and Mary, he said, “I am Simeon, told that I would not see death until I had seen the Lord’s Christ. The spirit has today brought me to the temple, and the prophecy has been fulfilled.” He stared in the baby’s face, saying, “Now you are here, and I have seen the salvation you have brought us all: a light of revelation to the Gentiles, and glory to your people, Israel.” The man’s arms trembled. His face was more bone than flesh. His ears were huge, false-looking in their enormity, and his tangled white eyebrows jutted forth from his face over his faded blue eyes.

  And then there came the high, shrill voice of an ancient, bow-backed woman who limped forward, crying, “Now is here the redemption of Israel!” She sounded to Mary like crows cawing in the field, fighting over corn. The woman’s head cover rode low over her forehead, shadowing her deep-set eyes. Her fingers were twisted and her knuckles swollen. Her mouth sank inward; she had no teeth.

  Mary looked at Joseph. She seemed to be asking whether these were holy people or the town’s lunatics. But he struggled to keep his face calm and accepting so that Mary would not be afraid.

  “It is so, Anna,” Simeon said to the old woman. “Rejoice, for it is so.” He looked deeply into Mary’s eyes. “You see that the prophetess who never leaves the temple, but prays here day and night, has also seen and made her pronouncement. Bless you! Your child is destined for the fall and the rising again of many in Israel. But he is a sign that will be spoken against, because he will cause the thoughts of many hearts to be revealed. A sword will pierce your soul, also.”

  Mary snatched Jesus back into her arms, startling him; his small arms flew up into the air. She drew her baby closer to her and spoke loudly to the man. “What is it you mean to say? What are these strange pronouncements?”

  Joseph moved closer to Mary, put his arm about her, and began to lead her out. “Pay them no mind,” he said.

  Mary looked back over her shoulder at the two old people who stood together, watching them leave the temple.

  “But did you hear their words, Joseph? What do they mean?”

  “They are old,” he said simply. He helped her onto the donkey. “And we are going home to Nazareth, where we will now raise this child, and many others, in peace.”

  But as he led the donkey once again down the road, he turned over and over in his mind the possible meaning of the many strange words spoken to them since Jesus’ birth. The shepherd girl, with her talk of Jesus being a savior, her story of angels coming to the shepherds in their fields on the night of his birth. The rumors of the many others in Jerusalem who h
ad spoken about the birth, and of the people who were journeying to see the baby. And now these two old people at the temple. Some might disregard the words of a simple shepherdess, but Joseph had felt the weight of her words in his heart. And a prophet and prophetess, who said these things in the temple in Jerusalem! Joseph had told Mary to disregard them, but he could not quite convince himself of what he said to her with such confidence.

  On the first night of their journey home, he lay awake beside Mary, listening to the cries of wild animals and the wind. But most of all, he listened to the chatter of his own mind, which demanded a rational explanation for all the events that had befallen them. About Mary’s pregnancy, he had his own ideas. As for the rest, he was confounded by it.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Nazareth

  Joseph

  HEN MARY AND JOSEPH HAD ARRIVED BACK in Nazareth and were nearing their own house, a group of children came running toward them. “They want to see the baby,” Mary said, smiling, and she began loosening the clothes around the baby’s face. But the children did not want to see the baby; rather they wanted to tell Mary and Joseph that there were strangers waiting for them. Men from the city called Saba in Persia, wearing fine robes! And hats! And rings! They had followed a star, they’d said, that had stopped here, directly over the house of Mary and Joseph. They had brought gifts for the baby. Could they see? the children asked. Could they see what the men had brought?

  Joseph kindly waved the children away, saying that they should come back tomorrow. Then he drew himself up and walked toward the house, pulling hard on the donkey’s lead to make him move more quickly. He strained to see in the gathering darkness who was at their door.

  THERE WERE THREE camels kneeling in the dirt outside Mary and Joseph’s house. They wore bridles decorated with silver and gold, with tassels and bells; and the camels’ saddles, resting on top of ornate rugs, were heavily loaded. Beside the camels sat three men, dressed in fine, heavy robes of purple and blue. One man was young and beardless, stout and ruddy-complected; one was an ancient white-haired man with a long beard that flowed halfway down his chest; the third was black-skinned and so tall he would need to bend, should he come into the house. They wore caps, as the children had said, and Joseph saw on their hands the many rings, as the children had also described—gold, with large stones of red, green, white, and blue. Also, the men wore multiple gold bracelets that jingled musically as they stood to greet the couple and their baby.

  Joseph took the last few steps toward them warily. He helped Mary off the donkey and bid her go inside. She hesitated, but did as he had asked. He closed the door tightly behind her, then turned to face the men and asked, “Why are you come here?” His voice betrayed his nervousness, and he drew in a deep breath, that he might calm himself.

  The old man spoke first. “I am Melchior,” he said. His voice was dry, parched-sounding. He pointed to the black man. “And this is Balthasar.”

  The black man put his hands together under his chin and bowed. In one of his earlobes, a ruby sparkled. He spoke in a low voice and with an accent Joseph could not identify. “I bring you greetings and salutations.”

  Joseph said nothing. The old man pointed to the younger man. “This one is Gaspar.”

  “We have traveled long to see you!” Gaspar said. “We are come to see the child born unto your wife, for he is the King of the Jews!”

  “Who has told you this?” Joseph asked irritably. Again these strange assertions!

  Melchior raised his eyebrows and nodded slowly. “We are acquainted with exiled Jewish priests who live among us, and we know well of the prophecy: the birth of the Christ child. We have followed the star.”

  Gaspar spoke again. “It is the messianic star!” He pointed to the sky. “Look, you can see it hovering there. On the night of your child’s birth, Jupiter, which represents kingship of the world, and Saturn, which is associated with Palestine, came close together in the constellation Pisces. This accounted for that most unusual brilliance. And when such an event occurs, it signals the birth of someone great.”

  “We traveled first to Jerusalem,” said Melchior. “There we asked the people, ‘Where is he that is born King of the Jews?’ We told them that we had seen his star in the east and had followed it, that we might find the babe and worship him.”

  Balthasar continued, “Hearing of this, Herod called for his chief priests and his scribes, asking where this child was to be born. They told him of this same prophecy, that from Bethlehem in Judea would come a ruler who would be shepherd to the people of Israel.”

  Gaspar spoke more quietly now. “Herod called to meet with us secretly so that he might learn the time the star had appeared. When we told him, he bid us find the child and report back to him, that he might come to worship him as well. But we are come to tell you grave news!” He ceased talking when the black man turned to look reproachfully at him.

  “You must be frightened by our appearance,” Balthasar told Joseph, “and more so by our eager companion’s revelations. But we are here only to pay our respects to the Christ child, and to offer gifts.”

  “But how do you come to believe all this of the infant?” Joseph asked. “By what means do you arrive at this fantastic conclusion?”

  Balthasar answered him. “As we have explained, it is the prophecy, which is well known to many. Moreover, we are skilled in dream interpretation and at divining both the past and the future. Gaspar is also an astronomer and a mathematician.”

  “Herod means to kill your son,” Gaspar said, and this time he was not rebuked.

  Joseph looked into their faces, one at a time. “Come inside,” he said.

  THEY FOUND MARY just inside the door, holding Jesus. When the wise men saw the baby, they fell to their knees. Bewildered, Mary looked to Joseph.

  “They are wise men,” he told her.

  She nodded, her eyes wide.

  Inside the house, Joseph could smell the visitors; mixed in with the scent of camels and the dust of travel was an exotic fragrance, like a rare perfume. The men exuded a kind of power but also a great gentleness—even the loud one, Gaspar.

  The men rose, and Balthasar pulled from his robe a velvet sack. He opened it and spilled out onto the earthen floor many pieces of gold. “That you may have enough for your journey, for you must escape from here.”

  Mary stepped back, startled, but Joseph felt rooted to the spot.

  Melchior showed them his offering of frankincense, and Gaspar his of myrrh.

  “Myrrh!” Mary said, and Gaspar spoke quickly, saying that in addition to being used to anoint the dead, myrrh might also be used as a painkiller.

  “We cannot accept these gifts,” Joseph said.

  “We cannot,” Mary echoed.

  “We bid you take them,” Balthasar said. “We have journeyed far to give them to you.” He looked at Jesus, lying still in his mother’s arms. “Blessings be upon him,” he said. He moved one step closer, then another. Mary stood still, but her arms tightened around Jesus.

  Balthasar stopped and held up his hand. “I shall come no closer. I mean only to admire the gift you have brought forth into the world.”

  Now Mary softened, and tilted the baby slightly toward him.

  Joseph stood watching, wondering if this were a dream. He had heard of wise men from the east, but that they were here in Nazareth! Come to visit them!

  Everything about these men was different: their dress, their speech, their movements and ways of speaking. They were like the very wealthy people Joseph sometimes saw in Sepphoris, who were separate by virtue of their station, by their very being. Yet these men were more exotic still. It was as though if he were to reach out and touch them, they still would not be touched. Looking at them, he could almost hear a strange kind of music, winding and enticing. They did not belong here in this humble village they had journeyed so far to find. Joseph tried to imagine how they traveled, where they stayed, to whom they spoke along the way. How many people now knew of the birth o
f Jesus? What could it mean?

  Had Mary brought all of this on them, with her strange yearnings and desires, with her dreamy discontent? Why could she not be more like a normal girl, content to sit in the courtyard or go to the well with her mother and her friends, content to gossip and laugh and care for her family, to attend weddings and funerals and help with the harvests? Most important, why could she not have been pregnant at the proper time by the proper person? Ever since she had come back to Nazareth as an unwed mother, his world had been turned upside down. Would these odd and difficult occurrences never end? Would he and Mary never enjoy the life he had wanted for them, a life that would properly emulate that of their parents?

  The three wise men had gathered now around Mary and Jesus, and they gazed with adoration at the baby. It was enough! He would no longer cooperate with the strange things being thrust upon him. This was his house, and he was the master of his own house! “I fear your presence here may attract unwanted attention,” he said. “I must ask that you leave now.”

  They all turned to him, the men and Mary. Then Balthasar said quietly, “Yet you were already in danger, without us. I tell you once more, we are come only to pay our respects.” He stepped back from Mary and nodded to the other two men. “But we shall go. For we ourselves must also flee Herod.”

  Gaspar said, “We were warned in a dream not to go back to Jerusalem but to return home by a different route.”

  Joseph put the gold back in the sack and held it and the other two sacks out to the men. “I shall ask you again to take back your gifts.”

  None of them moved to take the sacks. Finally, Melchior said, “Peace be with you,” and they bowed and departed.

  Mary and Joseph stood at the door and watched them mount their camels. On a command from one of the men, the camels rose, and then the men headed off into the night, their heads bobbing from side to side in their slow ride. Joseph could hear the bells on the camels fade away until they could be heard no more. He closed the door, dropped the sacks onto the floor, and turned to Mary. “We shall not go.”