The Builder

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The two weeks until the wedding had been a mingling of crawling and flying for both Yosef and Miriam as each of them prepared for the ceremonies. When the afternoon finally came and the groom would come for his bride, Kalev and Hephzibah’s house was breathless in expectation. The four elders of the town were there, as well as an honored guest: one of the sons of the High Priest in Jerusalem, who had business dealings with Eli. Eli and Hannah were decked out in their finest, as well as Hephzibah, her husband Kalev and her siblings Abiram, Salome, Naomi, Yehuda, and Tamar.
     It was just the time for the evening sacrifice when there was a loud knock at the gate. Quickly Yehuda rushed to open it, letting in Yosef and his immediate family: Yakov, Yehuda, Clopas, and Abiyah. The groom was resplendent in white garments that had been prepared for just this occasion. Ah, the money that had gone into this wedding! It would make even the richest man poor, thought Eli proudly. Yes, Yosef was an excellent match for his beautiful daughter. He strode forward under the canopy where the father, the mother, and the elders waited. The ceremony was short, a brief exchange of vows, a gold necklace and bracelets that were token of love from Yosef to his bride, a drink from a cup of wine and then the declaration that they were married. Instantly the builder picked up his young wife and strode towards the gate, carrying her in a joyful procession to his own house where the feasting would begin.
     The families followed, as did the elders. All of Nazereth had turned out for the festival. There were singers and dancers there, as well as some guests from other towns who were passing through or visiting relatives. As Yosef and Miriam walked into the courtyard of Yakov’s house, there were cheers of “God Bless” from all sides. The couple took their place under the royal canopy and the celebration began. The best wine was brought out and served to the many guests. There were dances by the men, with Yosef at the center, and by the women, surrounding Miriam.
     About halfway through the feasting that evening, Salome got a moment to sit down beside her sister, face flushed, and out of breath.
     “Oh, this is wonderful!” the younger girl breathed, pulling her shawl up onto her head again. “Just look at all the people!”
     “And who is that handsome young man that I’ve seen making eyes at you, Salome?” Miriam asked with a conspiratorial smile.
     “His name’s Zebedee. He’s from Capernaum,” the girl replied.
     “He’s a fisherman,” Hephzibah whispered from behind. “They say his father is very rich — supplies the High Priest’s family with fish directly from the Lake.”
     “Well, you might make a good catch yet, little sister,” Miriam laughed.
     “Never better than you did,” Salome said with a little pout.
     “Don’t tell my you’re in love with my husband, too!” the bride exclaimed.
     “Who wouldn’t be? He’s such a wonderful man! Marrying you even after — all that.” The girl quickly bit off the end of the sentence, noticing the slight shade of red that fell across Miriam’s face.
     “Sorry,” she whispered, got up and hurried over to where her father and mother were reclining with some of the other guests.
     “What was that all about?” Yosef wanted to know, returning to his wife’s side after another dance.
     “It’s — never mind,” Miriam answered, eyes downcast. Then she glanced up at her new husband. Noticing the warm, possessive look in his eyes, she remembered the words from the Song of Songs: If only you were to me like a brother who nursed at my mother’s breasts! Then, if I found you outside, I would kiss you, and no one would despise me.[12]
     “It is time,” he whispered to her and held out his hand. She grasped it and arose from her couch.
     “It is time!” he declared to the assembly and they all laughed out loud. With that the bride and groom departed for their bridal chamber, carefully made up in the inner room of Yosef’s house by his mother and Miriam’s sisters.

The door closed behind them and for the first time ever they were completely alone. The sounds of the festivities wafted in through the small, high window. There they stood hand-in-hand and a sudden chill shook Miriam. At first she couldn’t believe that this was her wedding night — hers and the man’s she loved. But now she was afraid. What would happen? What about her child? Yosef had never said anything to her about this moment.
     Slowly she drew back, taking her hand out of her husband’s. She walked towards the bed and then turned around, noticing that he hadn’t moved from the doorway.
     “Miriam,” he said quietly. “Don’t be afraid of me.”
     “I’m not afraid,” she replied in a quavering voice, trying to put up a bold front. A gentle smile alighted on his face, one that made her smile, too.
     “No, don’t be afraid.” He looked away for a moment. “I wanted this to be the night, just you and me together. But it can’t be.” He looked back. “Miriam, I will not touch you until the boy-child — Yehoshua — is born.”
     “But, Yosef …” she objected.
     “No buts, wife.” He held up his hand. “I want there to be no doubt in our mind whose son it is you are carrying.”
     “You’re right, husband,” she replied, looking away. There was a long silence.
     “Oh, Miriam, I love you so,” he suddenly burst out. She looked up, suddenly realizing what he was giving up for her — something that she equally wanted, but knew that they couldn’t share yet. And he would do it for her and for her child! Her love for him welled up in her suddenly and she could not contain herself, but took the three steps across the room and flung her arms around him. His arms closed around her in a strong embrace as she settled her head on his shoulder.
     It’s like it was made to go there, he thought to himself, relishing the feeling. Then he gently pushed her away.
     “It’s time for us to sleep, beloved,” he told her.
     “But what about the bridal bed?” she asked, suddenly remembering the custom.
     “It’s already arranged,” he replied. “Your mother and father know…” His voice trailed off, as he thought of the oath he’d taken before Eli, Yakov, Abiram, and Clopas just two days earlier when the subject had been brought up again. Yes, it was all taken care of.
     Miriam walked over to the bed and sat down. Yosef hesitated.
     “Are you not coming, husband?” she asked gently, smiling.
     “No, beloved, I’m not,” he told her, reaching for the bedroll that leaned next to the door. “Until Yehoshua is born I will sleep here.” And with that he unrolled his bed in front of the door, took his blanket and laid down.
     This is a strange bridal night, Miriam thought to herself as she rolled into the wide bridal bed. Her husband’s honor felt strange to her. Here he was protecting her by not even sleeping in the same bed, but she longed to feel his arms around her and his warmth protecting her. She closed her eyes to stifle the tears. How much longer before the child came — and she and her husband would be one? Oh, that it would come soon!

III. Bethlehem

It was getting on towards winter. For some time now the evenings had been cool enough that families no longer slept out on the roof, but huddled around the central fire pit in the house. Animals were brought into the stables beneath the house to create more warmth. People could be seen walking quickly, cloaks pulled tightly around them to ward off the late-fall chills. It would get worse soon, Yosef thought to himself as he made his way to his small home, especially with this new, disturbing news that his brother Abiyah had brought back from Jerusalem. And then Shallum had read the new edict in the synagogue…
     He reached the side gate and let himself in. The house adjoined his father’s on the back and was rather smaller than his family’s, but it was cozy. Miriam had taken pains to turn it into a comfortable home. Yosef reflected on the past months of their marriage. It had been difficult dealing with the whims of a pregnant woman, but the joy that he’d had from her constant presence much outweighed the annoyance of her sudden cravings for strange foods at strange hours. How would she take to the new edict?
     A beautiful smell came to his nostrils as he pushed open the door to the large living room. Miriam was kneeling by a large metal plate that rested over the fire, watching a batch of honey cakes that she was preparing for their evening repast. She looked up at him and smiled in greeting. She was very pregnant now, her belly large and round from her son. His mother had commented that the baby should come within a few weeks at the very latest. The pregnancy had been fairly easy on Miriam and she showed herself as vigorous as usual, though lately she’d often remarked about the weight and the soreness of her feet in an off-hand manner, not complaining about it at all, as he remembered his mother doing with his youngest brother.
     “Hello, my dove,” he said as he slipped off his sandals and sat down to splash water on his feet from the large urn they kept on the floor. He then quickly dried them.
     “Welcome home, husband,” she replied. He crossed the rough, hand-knotted carpets that were spread out. Her smile faded as she noticed the look in his eye.
     “Is something the matter, Yosef?” she asked. He hesitated. He did not want to bring this up yet, but the sooner it was said, the better.
     “Abiyah just returned from Jerusalem today,” he began.
     “Yes, I saw him,” his wife affirmed, gingerly flipping one of the honey cakes on the griddle, “but I don’t think that’s what’s bothering you.” Yosef smiled despite himself.
     “Did he tell you that the delegation to the Emperor in the west has failed?” he asked.
     “No. Abiyah doesn’t talk to women about such things.” She made a face and reached for a wooden plate to put the pastries on.
     “Abiyah doesn’t talk to women, period,” Yosef sighed. “Anyway, he told us that there was talk that the Emperor rejected our plea to not have to be subjected to a census.”
     “But it’s just talk,” Miriam interjected. Here her husband shook his head sadly.
     “They read out the edict in the synagogue today. Each man must go to his home town to be counted.” He paused. “Which means I must go to Bethlehem.” She passed him a laver to wash his hands in.
     “Fine.” She was smiling broadly. “When are we leaving?”
     “I was leaving within two days,” he began. “I was thinking that you would stay here, what with Yehoshua coming soon…” He put the laver aside and she passed him the plate with the honey cakes.
      “No.” She shook her head emphatically, settling herself back. “I will go with you. I’m your wife, after all.” He saw the iron will in her dark eyes and smiled to himself.
      “Very well, Miriam, we will leave the day after tomorrow, then. It will be a long journey, though.” And then he asked a brief blessing on the meal.
      “I’ve been there several times,” she told him, now producing a small bit of salted fish and some herbs. There were also some fresh apples, dried figs, and raisin cakes.
      “We’ll be staying with my cousin Adoniram,” Yosef explained. “Abiyah said that he’s already told them we’re coming.”
      “Is your father going, too?”
      “The whole family is, my dove, the whole family.” He bit into the honey cake, savoring the sweetness on his tongue, before chasing it down with a small sip of water.
      “When do you think we’ll return?” She asked around her own mouthful of fish.
      “When we see fit to do so. I think I will look to see if there are any building jobs there,” he explained. “They say Herod is still working on parts of the Temple and there is always skilled labor needed in Jerusalem.”
      “True.” There was something in her tone that made him look up, surprised.
      “What is it, Miriam?” he wanted to know. “Are you all right?”
      “Oh, it’s just that I was hoping we wouldn’t have to leave this home,” she began. “We’ve been so happy here.”
      “And we can be happy there, too, my dove. We both have family down there. You’ll be near your cousin, Elisabeth. And we’ll be close enough to worship at the Temple as much as we want!” She looked up and noticed the delight dancing in his eyes. Yes, he would want to be nearer his God. And she would, too. That was something she hadn’t thought about. It would not take long to pack her things. They would take their blankets and the sleeping mats. What little jewelry she had she could easily wear and they did not have too much in the way of clothing either, two cloaks and an extra tunic each. They were not rich, but they were well off.

The next day was spent packing. What Yosef had as ready capital was carefully gathered up and put into a heavy leather bag that he wore under his cloak. Their bed rolls and extra clothes were gathered into a bundle that was tied to the back of a donkey that her father sent them for the journey, along with Yosef’s satchel of tools. Eli was going down as well, but only long enough to register. Business in Sepphoris was too good to leave behind.
      They left at dawn the following morning, walking in a caravan with Yosef’s family. Only old Reb Yakov rode on a donkey, due to his stiff leg. The journey progressed rather quickly, taking eight days to travel the roughly 85 miles from Nazareth to Bethlehem. It would have taken seven, but Reb Yakov refused to travel more than a Sabbath’s walk on the Sabbath, which fell on the third day out of Nazareth.
      Miriam was in good spirits, though Yosef thought she waddled a bit more than walked. She kept with the steady pace set by the patriarch’s old donkey, at times wandering with her mother-in-law and Bat-shua, at times with Yosef, and even at times reciting Scripture with Reb Yakov. The old man fairly glowed with delight at her command of the Law, the Prophets, and the Writings and highly praised her to his son using words from the Proverbs of Solomon. It warmed the builder’s heart that his father would so approve her to him.
      As they drew nearer to their destination, more and more people joined them. Abiyah spent much time with the other scholarly young men, some of whom he knew from studying in Jerusalem, and some he’d just met on the road. At one point he was even able to rope Yosef and Clopas into a long argument with two young men whose fathers were extremely strict Pharisees and who were gladly treading in their fathers’ footsteps.
      And so they arrived in Bethlehem on the afternoon of the eighth day, just as the shadows began to lengthen and the darkling hour was approaching. Abiyah navigated them through the front gate and into the tiny village. Yosef clung to his donkey’s halter with one hand and his wife’s hand with the other, afraid that both would get swept away in the swirl of humanity pressing in around them.
      “It looks like all Judah has returned home,” Reb Yakov muttered to his son.
      “Do you think Uncle Attai will be there?” Yosef asked.
      “If he is, we will be very snug indeed,” the old man replied. “I do hope we will have some privacy for your wife when her time comes.” Yosef nodded at that. Attai, one of his father’s two younger brothers, was also a builder, but he had been spending his last years working on the Temple Mount. He felt that, because he was doing such a great work for God, he was entitled to the best of everything.
      “Here we are!” Abiyah called out, and pounded on a narrow wooden door much like the rest on the wall-lined streets. It was opened a few moments later by a man just a bit older than Yosef. He was stocky and dressed in his customary tunic, curled hair and beard glistening with fragrant oil. Clearly, here was a host, ready to receive his guests!
      “Abiyah!” he exclaimed, throwing his arms around his cousin’s shoulders. “How good of you to come. And Uncle Yakov!” Here he strode forward and bowed to the old man, kissing his hand in respect. The rabbi raised him up and kissed him on both cheeks.
      “Adoniram! How good to see you again,” he laughed.
      “Welcome, welcome all!” Adoniram thundered good-naturedly. “Enter with the blessing of God.” He turned to lead them into the house, gently touching the small box set into the doorpost. The others followed, doing the same.
      “Now, I must warn you that Uncle Attai and his family are here,” Adoniram told the others when they had trooped into the crowded courtyard. “It is good that my father still has his own home. He has taken the rest of the family.” He shrugged. “Of course, everyone’s house is full in Bethlehem, what with the edict and all.” He cast an eye toward Miriam. “But I do hope you will be comfortable, all of you.”
      As he was speaking, a tall, slender woman came down from the house. She stood almost a head taller than her husband, but her deference to him was clear. She quickly greeted the women and led them up and into the house, fussing over Miriam as they went. Yosef looked after her apprehensively.
      “Don’t you worry, cousin,” Adoniram said with a broad smile. “She’ll be well taken care of. My Sarah is one of the midwives in Bethlehem. She will know what to do.”
      “Will she have some privacy?” the builder asked.
      “I’m afraid not,” the host sighed, himself leading the men up the mud-brick staircase and into the living room. “Uncle Attai claimed the guest room for himself, his wife, and his children as soon as they arrived. It is a blessing that he only brought his three youngest daughters.” He laughed at that. Attai had started earlier than his older brother and had nine children, six sons by his first wife, all married, and three daughters by his second wife.

That evening Yosef found himself in the position of sleeping next to his wife for the first time since they were married.
      “Are you uncomfortable?” she whispered as he rolled out his mat next to hers. With fourteen people in the living-room, not to mention the five in the guest room, the only semblance of privacy they would have for some days were the quiet whispers.
      “Some.” He glanced at her.
      “Come, we will have to begin some time, my lord,” she told him with a smile. “My day is nearly here.”
      “I would have waited until then,” he replied. “I pray for strength.”
      “Back-to-back, husband,” she admonished, slowly getting down and rolling on her side. “That will help us.”
      “If two lie down together, they will keep warm. But how can one keep warm alone?”[13] Yosef quoted. Miriam smiled as he lay down next to her.
      “I love you so,” she whispered over her shoulder then shoved herself squarely against Yosef’s back. He thought he could hear her heave a sigh of contentment. She had been waiting for this as much as he. Dear wife, he thought, settling himself, bedding his head on his arm, how long have we waited? It will be soon — soon!