Mary’s wedding was an elaborate affair. Her exquisite gown, with train and veil, was of silk from the master weavers of Mount Zion. Cleophas had skillfully crafted the white-and-gold sandals for her dainty feet. And Esmeria, Anna’s sister and mother of Elisabeth, had created her stunning coiffure. She divided it into plaits and interwove the hair with satin ribbons and pearls.
Joseph was splendidly outfitted also. Anna made him a fine linen shirt and embroidered an elegant girdle that went twice around his waist.
She told him, “I wish it were of gold and silver like the loin cloths of the archangels, but it’s the best I could do.”
Joseph was immensely pleased, since a splendid girdle was not only a mark of high status, but it held his billowing blue cloak in place.
His only relatives at the wedding were a brother from Dabbesheth and two others from Bethlehem. Their parents had died long ago.
When curious friends asked Anna why Joseph and Mary hadn’t observed the customary year of betrothal, she satisfied their curiosity by replying, “God told them to marry at once.”
Cleophas was equally supportive of the young couple. He refused to accept Joseph’s offer of fifty shekels as a dowry. “You bring much to this marriage besides devotion. Your willingness to forego cohabitation is a great sacrifice.”
Joseph replied, “Hard work will be my panacea.”
After a week of celebration in Jerusalem, Joseph left for Bethlehem to take care of family affairs. Mary returned with Anna to Sepphoris. However, within a few days, Mary decided to leave for Jutta to be with her cousin, Elisabeth, until after the birth of John.
It was a shattering disappointment for Anna. She was deeply hurt not to share with Mary those months of her pregnancy. Hadn’t she already deprived herself of her daughter for many years in the service of God?
When Joseph returned to Galilee, Anna established him in her Nazareth house. It was already furnished, and Judith cared for his clothing and brought him food. Joseph occupied himself with making furniture and wicker screens in his small shop. He took the separation from his wife stoically.
“It’s important that Mary be present when Elisabeth’s son, John, is born,” he claimed. Yet, he couldn’t say why. He appeared content to spend each Sabbath with Anna and Cleophas.
Anna, on the other hand, was anything but happy. Each day when Cleophas returned home from his shop, he found her in a depressed and unresponsive mood.
Finally, he could keep silent no longer. “Ever since Mary left, you’ve felt sorry for yourself. You treat me like a stranger. Why am I not enough now?” His voice became husky with emotion. “You’ve brought me such happiness. You’ve always been so stimulating and devoted to me. Why now this withdrawal? Have you forgotten you’re my universe—my sun, my moon, my lode star?”
Anna was shocked by his words into a realization of her bad behavior. She put her arms around him and kissed him. “I’m totally ashamed of my self-pity. I’ve been feeling abandoned and unimportant because my daughter prefers another woman’s company. I’ve neglected a dear, devoted husband. I’ve been terribly selfish. You know that my marriage to you is a deep and satisfying miracle all by itself. Your love has given me a type of security that doesn’t come from material things. I’m deeply sorry.”
“A truce then? When you fall, I’ll lift you up and carry you until you can put your feet back on the ground.” Cleophas then changed the subject. “Your birthday isn’t until the month of Elul, but I bought you a gift in Jerusalem. I think you deserve it now. Stay there while I get it.”
He returned with a rectangular piece of fine yellow silk. Anna asked with a laugh, “You want me to start sewing again?”
“No, no. You can wear this right now. It’s called a himation. The shopkeeper said it’s the latest rage in Greece. You wind it elegantly around the body, then the rest of it goes over your head for a scarf. Try it.”
Anna, at fifty, was still slender. Her hair had not yet grayed, and her face was one of beauty. She skillfully draped the garment around her and paraded before her husband. She had a queenly carriage and a graceful walk.
“You look like a goddess! Hellenic fashions were certainly made for you.”
She ran to him and held him in a long embrace. “What a truly good person you are. You know my moods so well. Your understanding love is my sanctuary.”
Cleophas closed his eyes to stop the burning tears.
Their mood was shattered by a loud rap on the door. It was a distraught Joseph.
He said angrily, “Augustus has just decreed that a census will be taken in the colonies. Mary and I have to go to Bethlehem to register. I’ll go by way of Jutta to pick up Mary.”
Cleophas spoke reassuringly, “We’ll pack everything you need—bedding, food, clothing, utensils. Two of our strongest donkeys will speed your journey. All will go well.”
Joseph, however, was in a rebellious mood. As they loaded the animals he cried, “Why must we be counted in the district of our birth? Why not where we live?”
Cleophas gave him a cool drink of water. “Don’t be so upset. This is how Augustus establishes his authority over us. It’s a mark of our subjection to mighty Rome.”
Joseph continued to rant. “How much longer will we be ruled by foreigners? And who gave that foul heathen, Herod, the right to tax us to death while building his palaces? We are no more than cattle in the marketplace.”
Cleophas remained calm. “There have been benefits, Joseph. The Romans have held the Parthians at bay. We have a fine harbor, better roads, too.”
Anna joined them and added fuel to the fire. “Those of us who are less rigid in our religious attitudes get along much better with our conquerors. The wealthy Sadducees and the temple officials are perfectly content with the current regime.”
She thought of Julian, a frequent intruder in her thoughts. What would the oracles tell him of the unborn Jesus?
Joseph continued angrily, “I adhere to our tradition. One part of Palestine after another revolts. Today, it’s Jerusalem; tomorrow, Jericho. The massacres, the crucifixions of helpless people will soon come to Nazareth. In a few years, our Holy City will be a cemetery with heathens ruling it.”
“Well, Joseph,” Cleophas interrupted him, “We can’t settle the problem tonight. How will you let us know when the child is born?”
“My brother, Zadok, is now in Bethlehem. On his return to Galilee, he’ll bring you news of the birth.”
When Joseph was gone, Anna laughed. “He was so agitated, he didn’t even notice my beautiful himation! Come, let us pray.”
They knelt at the altar, and Anna removed the chest holding the holy relics. She touched only the strands of Sara’s hair. The beloved wife of Abraham held great meaning for Anna. Sara had been barren until she was eighty. It was then she gave birth to Isaac, and her death was recorded at 127 years.
Surely, Anna thought, a prayer to Sara would bring protection to Mary and Joseph on their difficult trip to Bethlehem.
Within a fortnight, Zadok arrived in Sepphoris to report to Anna.
“He is born? she cried expectantly.
With a hearty laugh, he picked her up and whirled her around before answering. Then, with a smug look, he announced, “Never saw such a healthy, perfect child! He’s blue-eyed, with Mary’s golden hair, and such a good baby.”
“And Mary? Is she up now?”
“Oh, yes. Remember, I promised I’d find her a good midwife, and I did. The delivery was an easy one. Unfortunately, when they arrived in Bethlehem, the one inn was filled. No one knew the roads would be so crowded with families trying to beat Augustus’ deadline. However, they found a grotto where farmers often keep animals. So it was there Mary gave birth.”
“Who’s taking care of her now?”
“A group of Essene women make things comfortable for her. They continue to act as protectors of the family. They keep the crowds of curious people away and make sure there’s water and food in the stable.”
“Has Jesus been circumcised?”
“Yes, on the eighth day. When Mary’s days of purification are over, they’ll take Jesus to the temple to be consecrated to the service of God.”
“We’ll go there at that time to bring the family back here,” Anna said joyfully. “I want Mary to spend all her time with her infant. She will have no cares about housework or shopping. I will take care of everything.”
At long last, Anna thought, I can see my daughter and grandson every day.