Daughter of Jerusalem (7 page)

Samuel and Naomi had their betrothal ceremony two days before the family left for Jerusalem to celebrate Passover. Every year the families from our town would make up a caravan and travel together. It was safer to journey in numbers, and it was also more fun.

The warming weather had dried up most of the winter mud, and the roads weren’t yet dusty. The sun was just right, warm on our heads and shoulders but not too hot. The hillsides of Galilee were covered with wildflowers, and the stretching fields of barley and wheat glittered like splashes of sunshine under the blue arch of the sky.

Almost everyone walked, but most families had donkeys to carry their tents, food, and the fine linen clothing that they would wear to the Temple. There were many other caravans on the road, and we filled the air with our singing. The little ones sang the pilgrimage songs I had taught them, and the joyous sound of hundreds of voices rose toward the heavens as we marched along the well-worn path that followed the Jordan from Galilee into Judea.

At night, around the cooking fires, the men would talk about the success or disappointment of the flax harvest and how good or bad the fishing had been, and—as always when a group of Jewish men got together—they talked about how much they hated the Romans. Second to the Romans, they hated Herod Antipas, the Galilean king, because he collaborated with the enemy. And they hated the most prominent symbol of the occupation, the Roman procurator who ruled Judea, because Rome had banished the Jewish king, Herod Archelaus, for incompetence.

I liked to eavesdrop on these conversations because Daniel was passionate about politics. He was passionate, too, as were most of the other men, about his hopes for the coming of the Messiah.

Daniel had often recited to me the exact passages in scripture that
predicted the Messiah’s coming. The Messiah would be a war leader like David and Judas Maccabeus, only greater. It was the Messiah whom the Lord had anointed to restore the lands of Israel to the Jewish people. The Messiah was destined to reign over all the world.

At night, I contemplated the idea of the Messiah as I lay in the tent that I shared with Aunt Leah and some of the children. It was exciting to think that a great king would arise from our midst, but I had difficulty picturing how it could happen. Our people were farmers and fishermen. Our leaders were priests, scribes, and Pharisees—religious men, not soldiers. When the Roman centurions rode their big horses into Magdala, we all backed out of their way. They wore helmets and breastplates and carried spears. They had conquered the world. How could the men of my little nation hope to defeat them?

Thankfully, it was up to God to answer that question, not me.

It took us four days to reach our usual campsite on the gentle slopes of the Mount of Olives. Every year we set up our tents in this same place, away from the crowds that were crammed like bees in a hive within the city walls.

We arrived just as the sun was setting over Jerusalem, and I managed a short escape from the bustle of getting settled so I could look across the Kidron Valley to the holy city itself.

This particular picture was imprinted on my mind, and I treasured it. I could close my eyes and call it up whenever I wished, and I did so frequently when I prayed. When I looked across the valley at Jerusalem, I didn’t see the Upper City, where the rich lived amid an array of magnificent palaces, or the great mass of the Citadel, or the huge barracks of the Antonia, where the hated Roman troops were housed.
My eyes were filled with the shining white splendor of the Temple, the center of the Jewish world, rising high above the ancient city walls.

Tonight, with the red sunset sky casting a glow on its marble purity, it was a breathtaking sight. My heart swelled with pride and awe as I regarded it.

I liked seeing the Temple from a distance better than I did being inside the building itself. We always visited at Passover, when the presence of the Lord seemed lost in the mass of people and animals that were crushed within its walls. But here, on the Mount of Olives, the Lord was very present to me, and I recited to myself the great words of the covenant He had made to Abraham:
I will be your God, and you will be my people.

I was so moved that tears stung my eyes. As I stood there, with the radiant glory of our Temple before me, I asked the Lord humbly how I had ever deserved to be so happy.

The following morning our group set out early for the Temple. The road from the Mount of Olives was already crowded with pilgrims waiting their turn to pass through the Valley Gate, the one closest to the Mount. It was dry underfoot from so many feet, and dust rose into the air as we walked. Ivah started to cough, so I tied a cotton scarf over her nose and mouth.

It should have been a short walk, but at Passover it always took hours. The closer we got to the gate, the more packed together the crowd became. Merchants were lined up along the way, hoping to sell a lamb or some pigeons and doves for Temple sacrifice. The loud voices, promising cheaper prices if we bought from them, scraped on my nerves, as did the whining of the multitude of beggars. People
pushed and shoved to get to the merchants, and I picked Ivah up so she wouldn’t be stepped on.

We finally reached the Valley Gate, which was guarded by a detachment of bored-looking Roman soldiers. I walked through, still carrying Ivah, and one of the soldiers peered at me and made a rude remark as we went by.

“Disgusting pigs,” Ruth muttered from behind me, and I heartily agreed.

The crowd outside the walls was nothing compared to the crowd inside. Merchants were lined up all along the narrow streets, shouting out their wares in Greek and Aramaic, and the air was filled with the bleating of frightened animals.

I always tried not to think about the rivers of blood that would be shed on the Temple altars. Lord Benjamin always bought our lamb inside the Temple, even though it was more expensive. To be accepted as a sacrifice, the lamb had to be declared unblemished, and the priests often declared the lambs that came from outside unfit, forcing the poor pilgrim to buy a second lamb, this time from the Temple. Lord Benjamin said it was a way for the priests to make money, and the only way to avoid the swindle was to take no chances and buy your lamb from them.

The smells were almost as overwhelming as the noise and the crowds. Food from all the countries of the Empire was being sold at market stands, and those odors, combined with the stench of sweat and the pungent oils that people had anointed themselves with, were enough to make my stomach churn.

When we finally reached the Temple, we had to separate so each of us could take a
mikvah
, the ritual bath that was necessary before one could be admitted to the Temple proper. About half the family had
gathered in the Court of the Gentiles by the time I joined them, my
mikvah
finished. The court was almost as crowded and noisy as the streets had been. The money changers were set up, ready to exchange foreign currency into ritually clean shekels, and the merchants were spread all over the vast area, selling a variety of sacrificial birds and animals as well as ritually pure lambs. Some enterprising souls were even trying to sell souvenirs to visitors from foreign lands.

Once all the family had gathered, we went up the stairs into the next court, the Court of the Women. This was where the real Temple started. It was open only to Jews, unlike the Court of the Gentiles, and merchants were not allowed in here. This court was meant for relaxing, for socializing, for meeting old friends. It was also the place where worshippers made their donations to the upkeep of the Temple. Lord Benjamin had given each member of his household a shekel for the Temple treasury, and I felt very important as I dropped my offering into one of the huge chests shaped like a ram’s horn.

As the family dispersed to seek out friends they hadn’t seen since last Passover, I attached myself to Daniel, and loyal Ruth attached herself to me. The Court of the Women was the place where all the famous scholars taught their students, the place where Daniel himself would shortly be a student. We followed him as he walked about, listening to the scholars as they questioned their students.

I tried not to dwell on our coming separation. How was I going to get through each day without seeing him? Without speaking to him? I couldn’t bear to think about it, so I tried to concentrate on what was being said by the scholars.

Beside me Ruth squealed, and I watched as she and another girl embraced and began to chatter. I turned back to the discourse Daniel was listening to so intently. The scribe was speaking about the Messiah,
and for the first time I began to wonder if such a being might come in my lifetime.

The women and children remained in the Women’s Court, while the men went through the magnificent bronze Nicanor Gate to ascend to the next court, the Court of Israel. From this vantage point, they could witness the priests making sacrifices and burnt offerings upon the altars in the Court of the Priests.

Women weren’t allowed beyond the Women’s Court, which suited me well. I found the thought of all that blood running down the Temple funnels into the valley below distressing. On these occasions I always remembered one of the psalms that Daniel had taught me, the one where the Lord says that He needs no bulls or goats from us as sacrifice, that all He wants from His people is our worship and thanksgiving.

Apparently the priests of the Temple hadn’t taken that psalm seriously.

Finally the men returned, and it was time to leave the Temple area. Lord Benjamin, Esther, Joses, Miriam, Samuel, and Naomi were going to remain in the city to dine that evening with Aaron bar David, the wealthy merchant who shipped the family’s fish to all the lands of the Roman world, while the rest of us were returning to the Mount of Olives.

As Ruth and I chatted idly, waiting for Ezekiel, Lord Benjamin’s second son, Lord Benjamin announced that the invitation to dine with Aaron bar David had been extended to Daniel and me.

Daniel had no part in the business, but he was going to be a famous scribe someday. I could understand why he had been invited.
But me? Our betrothal was still a secret. Why would Lord Benjamin have asked this merchant to invite me?

Daniel said, “I am honored, Father, but a little surprised.”

Lord Benjamin smiled genially. “I met Aaron bar David in the Temple today, and I happened to mention that you would be remaining here in Jerusalem to study. He saw that I would miss you sorely, and he included you in his invitation so that I could have more time with you before we must part.”

I was pleased. What a nice man Aaron bar David must be.

Of course, this still didn’t explain my invitation. It had been strange enough to include Esther, Miriam, and Naomi. Women normally didn’t dine with men not of their family, but Aaron bar David lived in Sepphoris, and everyone said that they did many strange things in that Romanized city.

“But why should Mary go?”

It was Rachel, and she looked to be almost bursting with fury.

“I know that Mary will miss Daniel too,” Lord Benjamin replied benevolently. “It won’t harm her to come, as long as her aunts are present as well.”