Fourth Centuries, under authority of Emperor Tiberius and the Roman Empire, you are all commanded to go home and perpetrate no weird shit until I have gotten well drunk and had several days to sleep it off.”
“So you’re going to release Joseph?” Maggie asked.
“He’s at the barracks. Go get him and take him home.”
“Amen,” said Joshua.
“Semper fido,” I added in Latin.
Joshua’s little brother Judah, who was seven by then, ran around the Roman barracks screaming “Let my people go! Let my people go!” until he was hoarse. (Judah had decided early on that he was going to be Moses when he grew up, only this time Moses would get to enter the promised land—on a pony.) As it turned out, Joseph had been waiting for us at the Venus Gate. He looked a little confused, but otherwise unharmed.
“They say that a dead man spoke,” Joseph said.
Mary was ecstatic. “Yes, and walked. He pointed out his murderer, then he died again.”
“Sorry,” Joshua said, “I tried to make him live on, but he only lasted a minute.”
Joseph frowned. “Did everyone see what you did, Joshua?”
“They didn’t know it was my doing, but they saw it.”
“I distracted everyone with one of my excellent dirges,” I said.
“You can’t risk yourself like that,” Joseph said to Joshua. “It’s not the time yet.”
“If not to save my father, when?”
“I’m not your father.” Joseph smiled.
“Yes you are.” Joshua hung his head.
“But I’m not the boss of you.” Joseph’s smile widened to a grin.
“No, I guess not,” Joshua said.
“You needn’t have worried, Joseph,” I said. “If the Romans had killed you I would have taken good care of Mary and the children.”
Maggie punched me in the arm.
“Good to know,” Joseph said.
On the road to Nazareth, I got to walk with Maggie a few paces behind Joseph and his family. Maggie’s family was so distraught over what had happened to Jeremiah that they didn’t even notice she wasn’t with them.
“He’s much stronger than he was the last time,” Maggie said.
“Don’t worry, he’ll be a mess tomorrow: ‘Oh, what did I do wrong. Oh, my faith wasn’t strong enough. Oh, I am not worthy of my task.’ He’ll be impossible to be around for a week or so. We’ll be lucky if he stops praying long enough to eat.”
“You shouldn’t make fun of him. He’s trying very hard.”
“Easy for you to say, you won’t have to hang out with the village idiot until Josh gets over this.”
“But aren’t you touched by who he is? What he is?”
“What good would that do me? If I was basking in the light of his holiness all of the time, how would I take care of him? Who would do all of his lying and cheating for him? Even Josh can’t think about what he is all of the time, Maggie.”
“I think about him all of the time. I pray for him all of the time.”
“Really? Do you ever pray for me?”
“I mentioned you in my prayers, once.”
“You did? How?”
“I asked God to help you not to be such a doofus, so you could watch over Joshua.”
“You meant doofus in an attractive way, right?”
“Of course.”
C hapter 7
And the angel said, “What prophet has this written? For in this book is foretold all the events which shall come to pass in the next week in the land of Days of Our Lives and All My Children. ”
And I said to the angel, “You fabulously feebleminded bundle of feathers, there’s no prophet involved. They know what is going to happen because they write it all down in advance for the actors to perform.”
“So it is written, so it shall be done,” said the angel.
I crossed the room and sat on the edge of the bed next to Raziel. His gaze never wavered from his Soap Opera Digest. I pushed the magazine down so the angel had to look me in the face.
“Raziel, do you remember the time before mankind, the time when there were only the heavenly host and the Lord?”
“Yes, those were the best of times. Except for
“So you’re going to release Joseph?” Maggie asked.
“He’s at the barracks. Go get him and take him home.”
“Amen,” said Joshua.
“Semper fido,” I added in Latin.
Joshua’s little brother Judah, who was seven by then, ran around the Roman barracks screaming “Let my people go! Let my people go!” until he was hoarse. (Judah had decided early on that he was going to be Moses when he grew up, only this time Moses would get to enter the promised land—on a pony.) As it turned out, Joseph had been waiting for us at the Venus Gate. He looked a little confused, but otherwise unharmed.
“They say that a dead man spoke,” Joseph said.
Mary was ecstatic. “Yes, and walked. He pointed out his murderer, then he died again.”
“Sorry,” Joshua said, “I tried to make him live on, but he only lasted a minute.”
Joseph frowned. “Did everyone see what you did, Joshua?”
“They didn’t know it was my doing, but they saw it.”
“I distracted everyone with one of my excellent dirges,” I said.
“You can’t risk yourself like that,” Joseph said to Joshua. “It’s not the time yet.”
“If not to save my father, when?”
“I’m not your father.” Joseph smiled.
“Yes you are.” Joshua hung his head.
“But I’m not the boss of you.” Joseph’s smile widened to a grin.
“No, I guess not,” Joshua said.
“You needn’t have worried, Joseph,” I said. “If the Romans had killed you I would have taken good care of Mary and the children.”
Maggie punched me in the arm.
“Good to know,” Joseph said.
On the road to Nazareth, I got to walk with Maggie a few paces behind Joseph and his family. Maggie’s family was so distraught over what had happened to Jeremiah that they didn’t even notice she wasn’t with them.
“He’s much stronger than he was the last time,” Maggie said.
“Don’t worry, he’ll be a mess tomorrow: ‘Oh, what did I do wrong. Oh, my faith wasn’t strong enough. Oh, I am not worthy of my task.’ He’ll be impossible to be around for a week or so. We’ll be lucky if he stops praying long enough to eat.”
“You shouldn’t make fun of him. He’s trying very hard.”
“Easy for you to say, you won’t have to hang out with the village idiot until Josh gets over this.”
“But aren’t you touched by who he is? What he is?”
“What good would that do me? If I was basking in the light of his holiness all of the time, how would I take care of him? Who would do all of his lying and cheating for him? Even Josh can’t think about what he is all of the time, Maggie.”
“I think about him all of the time. I pray for him all of the time.”
“Really? Do you ever pray for me?”
“I mentioned you in my prayers, once.”
“You did? How?”
“I asked God to help you not to be such a doofus, so you could watch over Joshua.”
“You meant doofus in an attractive way, right?”
“Of course.”
C hapter 7
And the angel said, “What prophet has this written? For in this book is foretold all the events which shall come to pass in the next week in the land of Days of Our Lives and All My Children. ”
And I said to the angel, “You fabulously feebleminded bundle of feathers, there’s no prophet involved. They know what is going to happen because they write it all down in advance for the actors to perform.”
“So it is written, so it shall be done,” said the angel.
I crossed the room and sat on the edge of the bed next to Raziel. His gaze never wavered from his Soap Opera Digest. I pushed the magazine down so the angel had to look me in the face.
“Raziel, do you remember the time before mankind, the time when there were only the heavenly host and the Lord?”
“Yes, those were the best of times. Except for
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