The midday sun lay over Nazareth like a clay oven. Mary could feel its heat on her head and arms. She stepped to the doorway and pulled aside the curtain, looking up the street as she had done so often the last few days.
A young woman looked up from the grain she was grinding. “He will return, Mother,” she said softly. “He has gone off before.”
“But never for so long, Miriam.” Mary dropped the curtain and returned to her weaving. “Joses and James were there at the Jordan with him. Did Joses remember him saying anything to make them think he would not return?”
Miriam sat back in reflection. “All I remember is what they said to us when they returned. They went to hear the Baptist preach near the Jordan. Joses said he was astonished at the power with which our cousin called the people to repentance. He and James went into the water with the others and were baptized. He said Jesus stood off a little way and watched. Then, when it was almost over, Jesus stepped into the river and stood before John. Joses was close enough to hear what was said.”
“Yes.” Mary took up the story. “John didn’t want to baptize him. He said it was he who needed to be baptized by Jesus.”
“And the Voice, Mother! Don’t you wish you could have heard it? ‘This is my beloved Son in whom I am well pleased!’ Joses said it sounded like it came from inside him and all around at the same time!”
“But why did Jesus not come back with his brothers? Why did he just walk out of the Jordan and into the wilderness? I’m afraid, Miriam. All these years and there’s never been a word about his Father’s business. Not since that year he stayed behind in the Temple.”
Mary’s hand stilled. She thought back over the long years of rearing her family. Such a strange beginning for her marriage to Joseph. Angels and kings, the prophecies in the Temple; the two years spent in Egypt to save the life of her first born. And then, nothing. No word from an angel. No word from Jesus about what he thought of being the Messiah.
He had been obedient. Well, with the exception of that time he stayed behind in the Temple talking with the priests. But, somehow, even that did not seem disobedience, but a logical thing for him to do. “My Father’s business,” he said. And neither she nor Joseph needed to ask which ‘father’ he was referring to.
But that had been eighteen years ago, and she had begun to wonder if he had forgotten the business to which he had referred. He did not appear to be a zealot, for he took no interest in the scheming against Rome that was so much a part of life in Judea and Galilee. He had worked alongside Joseph in the shop, helping him to train the younger brothers as they grew. Then, when Joseph died, he had taken his place as the head of the family.
He had always been in the habit of taking long walks in the evening, sometimes staying out until dawn. As he came in for breakfast at those times, there was a peace about him that told he had been praying all night. It was those times that brought it all back to her mind – the angels, the kings, the shepherds.
The people of Nazareth liked her tall, quiet son. He was a favorite reader in the synagogue, and people were already calling him Rabbi. He could lay out the foundation for a house as true as Joseph and his honesty gained him a good reputation among the businessmen of Nazareth.
Then, they heard of Elisabeth’s son, John, preaching in the Jordanian Wilderness. Jesus had listened intently to the reports brought back by his brother-in-law, Nathan. Soon, Jesus, James and Joses decided to go to Judea to hear him. James and Joses had returned, but Jesus had not. And it had been well over a month now since she had seen him.
Where was he? Was he in danger? She remembered the warning to Joseph by the angel when Herod sought to kill him. If God had spoken again at his baptism, would the forces of evil once again be unleashed against him? “Oh, Jehovah, protect your son from the evil one! Keep him safe wherever he is and bring him back to me!” She felt the burden slip away as it always did when she put him in the hands of his Father. How she longed for the gentle strength of Joseph. His death had left an empty place inside that invited worry and fear for her family.
Mary’s eyes rested on her hands. They had been soft and supple when she’d held her firstborn, when she smoothed his downy head and laid him in the borrowed manger. Now, they were rough and gnarled against the coarse cloth of her garment.
Miriam had gone outside for water. Suddenly she stepped back inside. “Mother, he’s coming!”
Mary dropped the wool she was holding and ran to the doorway. She saw the dear familiar figure coming up the street with long strides.
“Jesus!” she called with relief. She ran into his open arms and felt the strength of his welcoming embrace. “Oh, my son! I was so worried about you!” She stepped back to look at him. And suddenly she knew. The time she had been told of, the time she had been dreading was here. He had gone away her son. He had returned the Messiah.
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