Daughter of Jerusalem (23 page)

All three looked at me. They knew about Daniel, of course.

Lazarus said gently, “The men who live in Jerusalem are older, Mary. I think perhaps that desert living became too harsh for them.”

I nodded, picked up my cup, and took a long drink.
Daniel and I are finished
, I told myself.
Too much has happened for us to be as once we were.

Lazarus turned to Nathaniel. “He’s made quite a stir, this prophet. Some people are saying he’s the Messiah. Even some of the Pharisees and Sadducees from Jerusalem have gone to him to be baptized.”

“Really?” Nathaniel said in amazement.

This was truly stunning news. The Pharisees and Sadducees hated each other. The Pharisees weren’t a class; they were individuals who resided in the towns and villages of the country. They followed the Law to the letter so they would go to heaven when they died. The Sadducees were priests and aristocrats. They lived mainly in Jerusalem and thought a person’s reward came in this life. They were immensely powerful because they controlled the Sanhedrin, the highest legislative and judicial body in the country.

I heard youngsters’ voices and turned to see Martha shepherding Ruth’s children out to the courtyard. They sat at the table with us and were quiet, as well-brought-up children always were in the presence of adult conversation. But when Lazarus said something else about the Baptizer, Eli couldn’t contain himself.

He tugged on his father’s sleeve. “Please can’t we go to see him, Papa? I may never have the chance to see a prophet again.”

Nathaniel frowned at the interruption.

My brother said, “I’ve been planning to go see him myself. It’s amazing the effect this man seems to have on people. Anyone who can impress both Pharisees and Sadducees must have some unusual powers.”

Nathaniel’s lips twitched into a small smile. “That is a true word.”

Eli had enough sense to keep quiet.

I said, “I would like to see him too.”

Eli shot me a grateful look.

“We could go tomorrow,” Lazarus proposed. “He’s preaching just south of Jericho. If we start early enough we can be there and back before dark.”

Nathaniel looked at his eldest son’s hopeful face and sighed. “All right. Passover doesn’t begin for another day. Let’s go to see this prophet, John the Baptizer.”

Martha remained at home with the two youngest children, and Lazarus, Nathaniel, Ruth, and I started off the next morning with the two oldest. We went by the well-traveled merchant’s route and reached the ford south of Jericho by noon.

There was a mass of people crowded on the riverbanks and we heard the prophet’s voice before we were able to see him. He was
repeating the same words over and over: “
Repent. The Kingdom of God is upon you. Repent and believe.”

I had expected a big booming voice, like Simon Peter’s, but this voice was high-pitched, nasal, and piercing. We threaded our way through the crowd, Nathaniel and Lazarus in the lead with the rest of us right behind them. Finally we were close enough to the river to see what was happening.

Hundreds of fully clothed people were wading in water up to their thighs to where the prophet stood. He was thin, to the point of emaciation, with wild black hair and a flowing, unkempt beard. He appeared to be dressed in some kind of animal skin, which he had cinched about his middle by a rope. His skin was deeply browned, and even from the shore, I could see the glint in his dark eyes. He looked quite mad.

I watched him pour water out of his cupped hands over the heads of the people as they came to him. Each time, his thin, piercing voice commanded them to repent of their sins and make themselves clean for the coming of the kingdom.

I had no desire to wade into the river, no belief that the prophet could forgive my sins. But there was something riveting about that solitary figure. The whole scene seemed unreal, yet all of us watching were enthralled.

Eli and his brother Moses had taken their father’s hands. Nathaniel asked, “Do you want to go into the river?” Both boys shook their heads vehemently that they did not.

Moses asked in a small voice, “Is that what a prophet is supposed to look like?”

All of a sudden the crowd, which had been well behaved, began to push and shove. Nathaniel pulled his sons close to his side, and Lazarus put protective arms around Ruth and me.

“What’s happening?” Ruth asked.

I stood on tiptoe and saw that the pushing crowd had created a pathway and two men were walking through the opened space. Their immaculate white garments shone in the bright spring sun. The pristine tunics and their arrogant manner told me that they must be Temple priests.

They stopped just short of the water’s edge, making sure their spotless sandals stayed dry.

The crowd was eerily quiet. Even John’s nasal voice had fallen silent as he looked at the two men standing on the shore.

One of the priests called out, “You. Who do you think you are? Is it true that you have been telling people that you’re the Messiah?”

John took a step toward the shore, the water eddying around him. “You want to know who I am?”

“Yes. That is precisely what we want to know.”

A harsh, rusty-sounding laugh came from John, and then he raised his voice. “Who am I? ‘
I am a voice crying aloud in the wilderness.
’” He took another step toward the priests. “I have been sent to prepare the way of the Lord. That is who I am.”

I looked at Lazarus, and he looked back at me, raising his eyebrows. There were murmurs all around us from the crowd.

The priest’s voice reverberated with anger. “Don’t dare quote scripture to me. We have come here to find out if you are the Messiah. If you’re afraid to answer us, then you must be a fraud.”

John bent and cupped some water in his hand. He watched it as it trickled through his fingers. Then he looked up and this time his voice was quiet, “I baptize with water for repentance; but I tell you there is one coming after me who is mightier than I, and he will baptize with the fire of the Holy Spirit.”

Even from a distance I could see the priest stiffen. “What man? Of whom are you speaking?”

John’s face contorted with fury. He began to wade toward the shore, yelling as he came, “You viper’s brood! Do you really think you will escape retribution for what you do?”

The priests backed away. Then, as John continued to come toward them, they turned and hurried back up the path. John shouted insults after them until they were out of sight.

The crowd was buzzing with excitement.

Moses said in a trembling voice, “I’m not sure if I like prophets, Papa.”

“We’ll go,” Nathaniel said. Holding his sons’ hands, he nodded to Ruth to join them, and they began to retrace their steps to the road.

Lazarus remained where he was, his eyes fixed on the figure still standing in the river.

“What are you thinking?” I asked.

“I’m wondering who he is. And I’m wondering who he might be speaking about.”

He turned away and put a hand on my arm. “Come along, Mary. We had better go with your cousins.”

I hadn’t been to the Temple for Passover in years. As I waited for Ruth to come out of the house with her family, I chatted with Lazarus and tried not to show how uneasy I was. I had come a long way from the girl who had stood on the Mount of Olives and regarded the beauty of the Temple with awe and respect. It might still be a beautiful building, but now I had serious doubts about what went on inside its walls.

The Temple had driven Daniel away, and he was the most deeply religious person I knew. Daniel loved the Lord with all his heart, yet he had turned his back on the heart of Jewish worship. I still remembered every word he had said to me: “Our religious leaders have been corrupted by money. Animal sacrifice, and the money it brings in, is the business of the Temple these days, not prayer. We need to be saved from ourselves as well as from the Romans.”

During the years I dutifully accompanied Aaron to the Temple, I had seen the truth of Daniel’s words for myself. I hated the selling of animals. I hated the stench of the burned offerings that engulfed the city as the priests, for a price, slaughtered hundreds of thousands of lambs and burned their entrails and fat in supposed sacrifice to the Lord.

I spoke none of these dangerous thoughts to my companions. Instead I kept them to myself as I accompanied them along the well-worn road from Bethany to Jerusalem. Then I remained with Ruth and her children in the Court of the Women while Nathaniel and Lazarus took the lambs they had purchased up to the Court of the Priests.

We returned home well before sunset so Martha could have supper ready when the light died and Passover officially began. Martha took the basket of lamb’s meat from Lazarus, saying, “The rest of you, go to the courtyard and let us begin to prepare the meal.”

Martha and Ruth started toward the kitchen, and I took a few steps after them. Martha saw me, stopped, and said kindly, “Go along to the courtyard and help with the children, Mary. Ruth and I will be fine. I have two girls coming in to assist us.”

I was hurt. “But I want to help with the meal.”

Martha smiled. “You haven’t been inside a kitchen since you left Magdala, Mary. You’ll only be in the way.”

Ruth said to Martha, “She didn’t do much cooking in Magdala either. But she was always good with the children.” She looked at her girls. “Do you want Aunt Mary to go with you?”

Adah took my hand and beamed up at me. “Yes!”

I had no choice but to turn and go with the men and children into the courtyard. But I felt rejected.

By the time the sun had set and supper was ready, I had gotten over my ruffled feelings. We sat in the front room, where tables had been arranged in a square, with one side of the square left empty. Lazarus, as our host, sat at the top of the square, with the rest of us filling in the other two sides.

The Passover meal is long, with many hand washings and prayers
between courses. I sat through it all with a warm glow of happiness at being here with my family.

I listened as Lazarus told us about the evil deeds of Pharaoh and about the Israelites’ escape from captivity in Egypt. The ancient story of the lamb’s blood marking the doors of all Jews, so the angel of Death would pass them by, always made a chill run up and down my spine.

As I looked around the table, I felt deeply and profoundly that this was where my life was meant to be rooted. These good and kind people were my people. Impulsively, I leaned over and kissed Martha on the cheek.

She smiled at me, showing her dimples. “What was that for?”

“It’s to thank you for this wonderful meal and because I love you.”

Her dimples deepened. “I love you too, Mary. We’re so happy to have you here with us on this holy night.”

“I’m happy to be here,” I said. And I meant it with all my heart.

I had been back in Capernaum for a few weeks when I heard talk going around the marketplace that John the Baptizer had named another man as his successor. John had baptized many of the people in town, and they were agog at this news. Everyone wanted to know who the new prophet might be.

A few weeks later, news came to Fulvius Petrus that Herod Antipas had arrested John. The Romans were always the first to hear any news of importance because it came by horseback via the Roman Messenger Service.