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After the rabbi dismissed us from class, I stepped outside into the usual sea of people going in and out of the Temple grounds. I wound my way through the forest of bodies to the eastern gate of the city, and set off to Bethany.
The Romans always kept all the roads swept clear of rubble in case they needed to mobilize their troops quickly, and I passed several soldiers shouting commands to a group of slaves trying to heave an old cart off the stone-paved path. A peasant was pleading with the soldiers to give him time to repair the broken wheel that had caused him to stop, but they ignored the man. After I went by, I heard the crash of the cart as it tumbled down the embankment.
I met no other obstructions along the way, and arrived at my host’s estate within forty-five minutes. Benjamin had a wide field of wheat and a grove of fig trees, and maintained a lively trade in the city selling foodstuffs. Though some of the city’s residents both rich and poor tried to maintain small gardens, the majority of the city’s food came from outside its walls. Elders at the Temple maintained a large granary filled with produce brought as sacrifice by pilgrims from throughout the region. In a pinch, they would have enough food for an extended period if the gates were shut.
Benjamin’s servants were carrying the day’s harvest in from the field as I let myself through the gate and approached the main house. They paid me no mind, and I paid none to them.
In the house’s inner courtyard Eleazar was sitting and staring into space. I suspected that he had a bright mind, but something kept him closed to the rest of us. He seldom spoke, and when he did, he often made a remark about some miniscule aspect of an obscure item in the vicinity. Just yesterday Mary and I were talking about what she called inconsistencies in the Creation story in the Torah. Mary, though just a girl, had a sharp eye for detail and raised questions that I struggled to answer. As we were talking, Eleazar sat in silence as he often did, but then he suddenly announced that there were a hundred and forty-four ants in the line that was marching diagonally across the wall he was facing—twelve ants for each of the twelve tribes. Mary and I paused in our discussion momentarily to see if he would say any more, but we resumed talking when it became apparent the boy might not even be aware of our presence.
Today Eleazar looked up at me as I entered the courtyard. “Hi, Jacob. Did you take six thousand, one hundred and forty-seven steps from the gate of the city to the gate here at the house?”
“I’m afraid I didn’t count my steps. Why do you ask?”
“Oh.” He lowered his voice as he started to turn inward again. “Based on how long each of your steps is, I think you would have taken six thousand, one hundred and forty-seven.”
“Maybe one of these days I’ll remember to count,” I said. But I couldn’t tell if he even heard my voice; his gaze had already drifted away.
Mary’s singing voice announced her arrival from inside the house. She stopped her song when she saw me.
“Jacob, did my Daddy tell you the news? Someday you and I will be real brother and sister. Not make-believe like now. Daddy says I’m going to marry Joshua!”
Ouch. I knew this would probably happen, but it hurt to hear the news from Mary’s innocent lips. Father had proposed to me that I should become engaged to Mary. I told him my studies demanded all my attention, that a betrothal would distract me from my work. He made no attempt to dissuade me—as soon as I mentioned any threat to my work at the Temple, he discarded all thought of promising me as a future husband. But even I realized that, if he wanted to join our family to Benjamin’s and I would not make myself available, the next son would be called upon to fulfill the contract.
But I mustn’t let my misgivings about Jesus dampen her excitement. After all, perhaps she would be the one who could make him into a normal person.
“That is wonderful news,” I smiled. Though I considered her like a younger sister, I did not embrace her. “I wish you both the greatest happiness.”
Now Eleazar seemed to take notice of his surroundings again. “Joshua. Brother?” His eyes darted between Mary and me briefly, and then lost focus again as he quietly snickered to himself.
We barely acknowledged Eleazar’s momentary outburst. I regret to say that it happened so often, I seldom even noticed him.
“Now, Mary, in the coming years you must learn how to bring Jesus down to earth and make him concentrate on the task at hand. He’s a bright boy, but he lacks discipline.”
I was about to give her advice on how to rein in his wild nature, but the girl cut me off.
“Speaking of focus, big brother, I’m not going to let you get out of the Creation stories that easily. I asked you before if one of the stories might have come to us from the Samaritans, and you avoided giving me a straight answer. So tell me now.”
Yes, I thought to myself. She will make him into a stable man. I don’t need to worry.