The Builder
Page 2 of 7
As evening came and the men prepared to return home Yosef entered the unfinished banquet hall to retrieve some tools. They’d already begun laying the roof over the beams and the whole hall’s exterior should be done before the rains would begin within another six weeks. He climbed the scaffolding with ease and looked around to find the tools he’d laid down, wishing he’d had a lamp to aid him. He found the mallet and the three chisels, picked them up and began walking to the edge where a basket sat to lower them down. The sun falling into the room at just the right angle made it difficult for him to see where he was going.
“Be careful or you’ll fall!” came a girl’s voice and Yosef stopped, mere inches from the edge of the board. He glanced down and only was able to see a silhouette against the sun.
“Thank you,” he replied and knelt to feel for the basket. After a few moments he found it, placed his tools in it, and lowered it to the floor, quickly climbing down after it. He stood on the ground and glanced around. The girl had gone to pick up the jug she’d set down in the morning. It was nearly empty now, most having been drunk by the men while they worked in the sun. Yosef tried to ignore her, not wanting to fall from Eli’s good graces, but she came towards him purposefully. She extended the jar to him.
“Would you like the rest of the water?” she asked innocently. “It would be a pity to waste it.”
“Thank you,” he replied with a smile and accepted it from her hand, being careful not to touch her. He threw his head back as he emptied it, unaware that the girl was admiring his strong build, broad shoulders and raven hair that often shimmered reddish. By the time he was finished, she had composed herself and dropped her gaze again.
“Thank you, Bat Eli,” he said in Aramaic, handing her the jug. She smiled and he noticed that she had a small dimple on the right side of her face.
“And you are?” she asked directly.
“Yosef Bar Yakov,” he answered.
“I saw you looking at me, Yosef Bar Yakov,” she told him. Shame washed over him.
“Forgive me, Bat Eli,” he said quietly. “I meant no offense.” She smiled again.
“You should consult Eli before you look at Miriam’s face,” the girl laughed. “He gets very jealous of me.”
So her name is Miriam, Yosef thought to himself. Miriam – bitterness. An apt name in times such as these, but so unfitting to this young woman.
“Forgive me, Miriam Bat Eli,” he repeated, this time in Hebrew. The girl couldn’t keep her eyes down this time, amazed at the perfect diction from this rough builder’s mouth. She gave a little laugh.
“You speak the language of our fathers!” she exclaimed in the same tongue. “Few do.”
“From my father,” Yosef replied. “A gift of God.”
“Hm, yes,” she returned, uncertain what to say, then shouldered the jug and began to walk off. At that moment it seemed the Yosef’s mouth disconnected from his brain.
“Will we meet again, Bat Eli?” he asked. She turned back and gave him a curious look, but did not answer, stepping out into the setting sun, the red rays obliterating her form. To Yosef it was as if an angel had vanished into the light of heaven. Would he ever be the same?
“Your work has been far beyond what I could have repaid,” Eli said as he reclined at the table with Yosef Bar Yakov, his three brothers, and several other guests following the completion of the new wing. “Certainly I would like to retain your services in some way, Yosef.”
“I already have new assignments, my lord,” the builder replied evenly. “There are others in Sepphoris who are building. And then there is the furniture you ordered.”
“Quite, quite,” the old man sighed, waving one hand impatiently. A servant rushed up to refill the host’s goblet with some of the Mt. Carmel wine that Eli loved so much. At that moment Yosef noticed that he was being attended by a male servant and not by Miriam.
Me and my big mouth, the builder thought ruefully, recalling his telling Micah, Clopas, and Yehuda of the brief conversation he’d had with Miriam Bat Eli. His brothers had laughed knowingly. Certainly he’d seen more of the girl during the rest of his time finishing the new wing, but the closest he’d ever gotten was a shy, admiring look and a small smile. He felt disappointed, longing to talk to this young woman who clearly was much deeper than she seemed at first.
“I do feel that I have not remunerated you enough, though, Yosef,” Eli cut into his thoughts. “Ask of me what you will, and I’ll grant it.” That offer caught the young man off guard.
“I do not dare ask, my lord!” The words popped out of his mouth automatically. There was a sly light in the old man’s eyes.
“You don’t dare ask because you would ask for something that I prize very highly, is that not right, young man?”
“Forgive me, my lord,” Yosef replied, averting his eyes. Eli chuckled.
“Well, my boy, I have eyes in my head and more than a little common sense.” The occupants of the table laughed a bit at that remark. “I know you have seen my daughter, my Miriam, and I’ve seen the way you have looked at her.” Yosef lowered his head to hide flush of shame rising to his cheeks.
So he’s had me sit at his right hand so that he can humiliate me better, is that it? he asked himself.
“There’s nothing wrong in a man noticing a woman’s beauty,” Eli continued benignly. “Especially my Miriam’s beauty! Ah, now there’s a girl for you – few with her countenance and her quietness. She is so gentle that she would not hurt any living thing and yet she has a soul of iron that will not bend to the wrong. She is untouched, unblemished. She has a servant’s heart and,” here he winked at Yosef conspiratorially, “she would make the perfect mother for Messiah, but don’t tell anyone I said that.” Yosef forced himself to smile, but thinking of what he’d seen of Miriam, he knew that Eli’s words were true. The old man sighed loudly.
“My boy, you do not know what you are asking this old man to give up!”
“I am not asking, my lord,” the builder replied humbly, almost trying to defend himself. But something within was telling him that this was merely a game that Eli was playing and that no matter what Yosef said the outcome was planned far in advance.
“You aren’t asking, Yosef Bar Yakov, and you are wise not to do so,” the merchant replied, eyes once more becoming very sly. “You are a humble man in more ways than one.” He smiled. “I have asked about you, Yosef Bar Yakov. I know you are the oldest son of the much loved and revered Rabbi Yakov Bar Mattan of Nazareth where my daughter Hephzibah lives. I know that you work hard to keep your father and his family supported. I know that you recite Scripture better than the rabbis of Sepphoris – and in our fathers’ tongue none-the-less! I know that you are honorable and hard-working, a man who has no faults and who obeys his God without question!” He leaned in close. “There are few of your kind, Yosef Bar Yakov, very few. That’s because you carry something other men don’t: you are a direct descendant of Yehoiachin, the last king of Judah, and were Israel a true nation today with one of David’s sons on the throne, you would be the next in line.” This had been said in a low voice so only Yosef and Eli’s son Abiram who sat on the merchant’s left could hear it. Yosef knew that the old man’s words were true and they chilled him, because to utter such words in public might arouse the ire of certain rulers of the country who didn’t care to have a Davidic dynasty on the throne. Eli leaned back, cleared his throat, and took another sip of his wine.
“So, Yosef Bar Yakov, what is your request?” The builder’s head started to spin and he found himself having to breathe heavily to contain his pounding heart. Dare he ask?
“I am poor, my lord,” he pushed out instead.
“A humble man, as I said, Abiram,” Eli remarked to his son. “What does that matter, Yosef? Your expertise can easily provide you with the means to support a family twice the size of the one you already have.” At that point the young man decided.
“Sir, I would like to ask for your daughter Miriam’s hand in marriage,” he said, eyes averted.
“There’s the spirit, my boy,” the merchant remarked slapping the young man on the shoulder. He then turned and called, “Miriam!” Yosef’s heart leaped into his throat. The betrothal now? His family was not here!
“Sir, my family…” he interjected.
“Don’t worry, my boy,” Eli returned. “They’ve been properly informed. Your father declined the invitation, though, as his health is poor.” Yosef glanced over at Yehuda who was nonchalantly nipping at his glass of wine. Were they in on it? he wondered. Clopas lay there, grinning broadly. Yes, they were definitely in on it. I bet the old man had this all set up from the first day I walked on the job, he thought to himself.
At that moment Miriam came into the room, wearing a maroon-colored dress with a desert-blue sash and a white head-scarf. Her hair peeked out at just the right amount to be modest. Yosef rose. The girl glanced up at him, unable to hide the excitement in her eyes and in her flushed face.
This is all so fast! Yosef thought to himself, but was composed as he reached into his belt and retrieved a full silver shekel that Clopas had given him on their way to Eli’s. When asked what it was for, his brother had only mentioned that it would be needed when the time came. The custom was that the betrothal be sealed before representatives of each family by the couple exchanging a small amount of money. The larger the coin, the higher the esteem and a full shekel was the highest that Yosef could afford at this point. His savings were meager, but they were there and would have to wait to support a wife. He paused and looked at the girl.
“What do you have to say to all this?” he asked suddenly. She lifted her head and looked him square in the eye for a moment, smiling broadly. She lowered it again.
“I would never reject a son of David,” she whispered. “I would never reject a man who loves God as does Yosef Bar Yakov.” The simplicity of her statement thrust him off balance, but he composed himself quickly and held out his hand with the shekel in it. She raised her right and he put the coin in it, closing her fingers over top. She quickly drew the piece of silver to her lips before presenting him with a like coin, displaying her affection for him. Then she bowed slightly, turned and ran from the room.
“And now let us celebrate, Yosef Bar Yakov – my son,” Eli said with a smile. “For fortunate is he who can have a daughter of the house of David!”
II. Nazareth
It was a worried Yosef who strode down the street of Nazareth to the home of Kalev Bar Shmuel, the brother-in-law of his betrothed. Miriam had just returned from three months in Judea visiting an elderly cousin who had just delivered her first-born. The story of Yochanan Bar Zachariah had been passed on to Yosef’s family by Abiyah who had also just returned from down south where he’d been negotiating to study at the feet of a well-known rabbi. Yosef had been itching to see his bride ever since she’d returned the day before, but his business didn’t allow it. Then today came one of Hephzibah’s messengers.
“Come and speak with your wife,” was all that he’d told the builder, but he had ill disguised a very negative tone in his voice.
What has happened to Miriam? Yosef wondered. In the past nine months of their betrothal he had taken ample time to get to know the girl and had come away surprised at her depth. She was a normal girl in many ways, but unusual in just as many. What woman did he know besides his mother who could argue the fine points of the Law with the fervor and logic of a seasoned Rabbi? What woman did he know who would submit to him as Miriam did, unquestioningly? What woman had he ever met who would look at him with such adoration in her eyes? And now there was some trouble. What trouble? Yosef sighed as he came up to Kalev’s enclosure. He paused before knocking on the side gate.
To his surprise it was opened by Hephzibah herself, a small, rotund woman with dark eyes that scarce hid cunning and wisdom.
“It’s good you came, Yosef,” she said evenly. “My father was here this morning. Miriam is very shaken.”
“What’s happening?” he demanded, stepping through the gate.|
“Perhaps you’d better see for yourself,” was the reply and, though he prodded, his bride’s sister would say no more. So he followed her silently onto the roof of the house where Miriam was spinning wool. She looked up as he came and gave him a small, melancholy smile. Her face was paler than usual and there were shadows under her eyes. However, she held herself erect, trying to be sure. Hephzibah nodded to Miriam and then turned and disappeared. Yosef sat down on the parapet next to her.
“I’m so glad you came, Yosef,” she greeted him in her quiet voice. “I’ve had such trouble.” It surprised him that she refused to look at him, something that they’d perfected in the months past.
“What are you talking about?” he demanded, slowly becoming agitated. Who had dared lay hand on his wife, the woman he loved? She put down the wool she was working on and glanced at him furtively. There was a strange light in her eyes.
“Has Hephzibah not told you?” she asked.
“No.” The girl looked away and bit her lip, as if afraid. He wanted to reach out and grasp her hand.
“Miriam, what happened? Was it on the journey?”
“No, before.” She looked back at him. “Yosef, I’m pregnant.” His jaw dropped open, unable to grasp what he’d just heard.
“What?” was all he could croak.
“I’m pregnant – but it’s not the way you think!” He began shaking his head.
“Please, ba’ali, hear me out!” The pleading in her voice, the use of that epithet – ba’ali, my lord, my owner – was something he’d not experienced before and he could not do anything but comply. Miriam smoothed her dress with both hands and then launched into her narrative.
“It was two days before I left to visit Elisabeth, my cousin in Judea. I had just returned from getting the water for the morning. I was alone in the courtyard when suddenly I saw this man. He was tall and shining like the sun. There was something about him that immediately made it clear to me that this was a messenger of God!” Yosef raised an eyebrow skeptically, but Miriam didn’t seem to notice.
“He said to me, ‘Greetings, favored woman! The Lord is with you!’[8] I was very surprised at this, I mean, who am I to be favored, I’m just a girl who is betrothed to a son of David, the deposed line of Israel. Why would I be favored?” She flicked a glance at him. “To be honest, Yosef, it scared me very much and I wondered what he might mean. But he went on.
“‘Don’t be frightened, Miriam,’ he said, ‘for God has decided to bless you! You will become pregnant and have a son, and you are to name him Yehoshua. He will be very great and will be called the Son of the Most High. And the Lord God will give him the throne of his ancestor David. And he will reign over Israel forever; his Kingdom will never end!’“[9]
“But how? I’ve never touched you, and neither has any other man!” Yosef demanded.
“I asked him the same thing and he told me, ‘The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you. So the baby born to you will be holy, and he will be called the Son of God. What’s more, your relative Elisabeth has become pregnant in her old age! People used to say she was barren, but she’s already in her sixth month. For nothing is impossible with God.’“[10]
“And you declined, right?” Yosef asked, unbelieving.
“How could I, ba’ali? It was God who was speaking. How can I reject what God has asked? After all, I am His servant.” She looked at him with pleading eyes. “Yosef, please say you believe me!” He struggled with what she’d told him. This was the most ludicrous story he’d ever heard to cover up a pregnancy. It couldn’t have been him. He’d touched her hand once, maybe twice, but he’d not even kissed her yet. How could she be pregnant? Had she been raped? Had she consented to something worse?
“Yosef?” the girl’s fearful voice cut through his roiling thoughts. He knew she would read the disbelief in his eyes.
“I – I need to think, Miriam,” was all he said and rose. This certainly was too much. Might it have been one of those Romans who had traveled through Nazareth on their way to Sepphoris? He did not even bid her farewell as he turned angrily and walked down the stairs, only to bump into Hephzibah.
“She told you?” the woman asked. The builder nodded.
“Who was it really, Hephzibah?” he queried in turn.
“That I can’t say, Yosef. It certainly wasn’t here at the house if it were a natural conception.” She paused and looked away. “My father asked the same question of Miriam. He even struck her for lying to him.” The eyes flicked back to the builder. “I don’t know if I should tell you this, but we had the midwife come by and look at Miriam. She swore that my sister is still a virgin.” Those words stopped Yosef cold.
“What did you say?” he demanded.
“From what we can tell Miriam is still a virgin.” The sister’s voice was most defensive. “My father did not want to believe it, but it seems what she said is true.” She grabbed the builder’s arm. “Yosef, if what she says is true, might it not be…”
“I’m not about to speculate in that direction, woman,” he said coldly, turned, and stalked off.
It was a very troubled Yosef Bar Yakov who returned to his father’s house. His mother greeted him, but he avoided her and went to the roof, where his father was sitting, meditating on some portion of Scripture. The old man looked up as his son came and sat down across from him.
“Ah, my son,” he greeted the builder with a wan smile, “I see you have returned from your wife.” Yosef lowered his head.
“You know?” he asked.
“I know. Eli was here while you were away in Sepphoris. He told me.” The old man sighed and shifted his stiff leg where a large beam had taken him out of the business of building and catapulted him into the task of learning and teaching the Word. “It pains me.”
“Hephzibah told me she’s still a virgin,” Yosef pushed out. Yakov looked at him sharply.
“You would believe her? Women as witnesses are unreliable!”
Here we go again, Yosef thought. This blasted double-logic!
“Father, you yourself have told me that if a woman swears before God, her witness is valid. The midwife swore.” That made the old rabbi thoughtful.
“Perhaps you’re right, my son.” And he was quiet for a long time.
“What shall I do, father?” the builder asked.
“You know the Law, son,” came the answer. Yes, Yosef knew the Law, better than most. Adultery was punishable by death – death by stoning. He could not see his beloved Miriam in this situation. Certainly she’d betrayed him. She’d given herself to another, but he still couldn’t bring himself to do such a thing.
“What if I divorce her quietly?” he suggested.
“That would be your decision, son,” Yakov returned evenly. “You must clear this between yourself and God.”
The evening meal was somber as Yosef, the one who usually led the conversations with his wit and laughter, was silent. He’d spoken with Clopas about it after talking to his father and, to his surprise, his brother had defended the girl.
“After all, you know that she would never lie to you. She could have kept it secret from even you, brother.”
True, why would she tell me? he wondered. I’m the one who can cause her death. Why did she tell Hephzibah for that matter? The answer to the second question was obvious: a woman could notice if another woman was pregnant before a man could. But what must Yosef do? He had prayed for guidance, but in wrestling this one through, whether with his father and his brother’s advice or alone, he was unable to come to a solution. It was as if he were Jacob, wrestling the Angel of Yahweh at Penuel. There would be no winning.
With such melancholy thoughts he threw himself on his mat, uncertain what to do. He struggled through restless dreams, many of them having to do with Miriam, all ethereal. There were hints from friends, chastising him for entering into such a marriage without thinking about it deeply first. There were those who accused Miriam of being loose. He even saw himself casting the first stone at her as she cowered against the wall to the synagogue. It was then that he woke up, staring at the midnight sky.
No, he told himself, I will never do that to her. And then he made up his mind: I will divorce her quietly. That way she and the baby will live. That is more important. The certainty of his decision gave him rest and he fell asleep again.
A new dream assailed him and later he could only describe it as a night-vision, similar to what Zechariah might have had hundreds of years earlier. He found himself in the synagogue. They were accusing a very pregnant Miriam of adultery. She looked at him, pleading, before two rough men grabbed her and forced her out of the building. Yosef followed. They cast her to the ground and men began to pick up stones. Someone shoved him and he found himself standing in front of the trembling girl. She looked up at him, eyes doleful, asking for help. He stood between her and the throng ready to stone her. He was her shield.
A hand laid itself on his shoulder and a quiet voice began to whisper in his ear.
“Yosef Ben David, do not be afraid to go ahead with your marriage to Miriam. For the child within her has been conceived by the Holy Spirit. And she will have a son, and you are to name him Yehoshua, for he will save his people from their sins.”[11] He did not know how, but he knew it was the voice of an angel in his night-vision. He knew what he must do. And as he stepped forward to raise his young wife to her feet the vision faded and he came awake on his pallet. Dawn was just breaking and he rose, certain of what he would do.
Eli was not surprised to see Yosef at this early hour. He looked at the young man who stood their, certainty in his eyes and stance.
He’ll divorce her, the merchant thought. Not that I blame him. After all, she betrayed him.
“Welcome, Yosef Bar Yakov,” he said gravely. “I know why you have come. It is because of Miriam”
“Yes, my father,” the young man replied evenly. “But it is not as you think.” Yosef paused for a moment, summoning the strength that had rested on him since the dream had come.
“I have come to ask you to bring the wedding forward. I wish to take Miriam to my home as soon as possible.”
Eli’s mouth dropped open and it took the old Pharisee a long moment to compose himself.
“What did you say?” he demanded incredulously. The dark eyes of the son of David met his.
“I wish to take Miriam home as my wife.”
“But she has betrayed you, Yosef!”
“I had a night-vision, my father,” the builder explained and suddenly the old man realized that this was what gave Yosef the strength he displayed.
“An angel appeared to me in a dream last night. He told me to marry your daughter, because her child is conceived of the Holy Spirit of the Blessed One.” The Pharisee forced a chuckle.
“Come now, Yosef, you’ve fallen for my daughter’s lies!”
“No, my father. She told the truth, as has the midwife. I know because of what God has told me in that night-vision. I will marry your daughter and raise her son as were he my own.”
Eli shook his head, unbelieving. What had gotten into this young man? First he didn’t dare ask for the girl’s hand and now he wanted to marry her though she’d been unfaithful to him. But at the same time the Pharisee could not help but admire the young man’s devotion to the girl he’d been betrothed to. It certainly spoke of a much deeper righteousness on Yosef’s part than Eli had even suspected. How many men did he know that claimed such a righteousness who would even consider marrying such a woman? No, the most any other man he knew would do was to divorce the girl quietly. The rest would have her accused of adultery and stoned publicly. Perhaps he should be happy for Yosef, the man who would keep his most beloved daughter alive. But could Eli live with the stigma of his daughter’s illegitimate child? Yosef had promised to make the child legitimate through his marriage to the girl and agreement of raising it as his own.
Oh that it would at least be a son, the old man found himself thinking. With that stray thought he finally decided to give in.
“So you want to marry her as soon as possible,” he mused. “When might that be?” The builder was pensive.
“Considering what we have to prepare at my home, perhaps two or three weeks from now,” he said after a few minutes of thinking.
“Very well, we can do that,” Eli agreed.
“Sir, there is something else...”
“Oh?” The old man raised an eyebrow.
“It has to do with the wedding night.” Yosef drew a deep breath. “Miriam must remain a virgin until her son is born.” That statement caught Eli off guard.
“What did you say?”
“I will not know Miriam until she has had her baby. I hope you can understand that.” The old man thought for a moment. Well, there was part of him that understood it, as to how it pertained to the law, but what it might mean for Yosef to wait so long until the child was born before knowing his wife intimately, he couldn’t fathom.
“Very well,” was all he answered. “My wife will speak with your mother on some of the details. We’ll have the wedding in two weeks.”
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