against, because he will cause the thoughts of many hearts to be revealed. A sword will pierce your soul, also.”
Mary snatched Jesus back into her arms, startling him; his small arms flew up into the air. She drew her baby closer to her and spoke loudly to the man. “What is it you mean to say? What are these strange pronouncements?”
Joseph moved closer to Mary, put his arm about her, and began to lead her out. “Pay them no mind,” he said.
Mary looked back over her shoulder at the two old people who stood together, watching them leave the temple.
“But did you hear their words, Joseph? What do they mean?”
“They are old,” he said simply. He helped her onto the donkey. “And we are going home to Nazareth, where we will now raise this child, and many others, in peace.”
But as he led the donkey once again down the road, he turned over and over in his mind the possible meaning of the many strange words spoken to them since Jesus’ birth. The shepherd girl, with her talk of Jesus being a savior, her story of angels coming to the shepherds in their fields on the night of his birth. The rumors of the many others in Jerusalem who had spoken about the birth, and of the people who were journeying to see the baby. And now these two old people at the temple. Some might disregard the words of a simple shepherdess, but Joseph had felt the weight of her words in his heart. And a prophet and prophetess, who said these things in the temple in Jerusalem! Joseph had told Mary to disregard them, but he could not quite convince himself of what he said to her with such confidence.
On the first night of their journey home, he lay awake beside Mary, listening to the cries of wild animals and the wind. But most of all, he listened to the chatter of his own mind, which demanded a rational explanation for all the events that had befallen them. About Mary’s pregnancy, he had his own ideas. As for the rest, he was confounded by it.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Nazareth
Joseph
HEN MARY AND JOSEPH HAD ARRIVED BACK in Nazareth and were nearing their own house, a group of children came running toward them. “They want to see the baby,” Mary said, smiling, and she began loosening the clothes around the baby’s face. But the children did not want to see the baby; rather they wanted to tell Mary and Joseph that there were strangers waiting for them. Men from the city called Saba in Persia, wearing fine robes! And hats! And rings! They had followed a star, they’d said, that had stopped here, directly over the house of Mary and Joseph. They had brought gifts for the baby. Could they see? the children asked. Could they see what the men had brought?
Joseph kindly waved the children away, saying that they should come back tomorrow. Then he drew himself up and walked toward the house, pulling hard on the donkey’s lead to make him move more quickly. He strained to see in the gathering darkness who was at their door.
THERE WERE THREE camels kneeling in the dirt outside Mary and Joseph’s house. They wore bridles decorated with silver and gold, with tassels and bells; and the camels’ saddles, resting on top of ornate rugs, were heavily loaded. Beside the camels sat three men, dressed in fine, heavy robes of purple and blue. One man was young and beardless, stout and ruddy-complected; one was an ancient white-haired man with a long beard that flowed halfway down his chest; the third was black-skinned and so tall he would need to bend, should he come into the house. They wore caps, as the children had said, and Joseph saw on their hands the many rings, as the children had also described—gold, with large stones of red, green, white, and blue. Also, the men wore multiple gold bracelets that jingled musically as they stood to greet the couple and their baby.
Joseph took the last few steps toward them warily. He helped Mary off the donkey and bid her go inside. She hesitated, but did as he had asked. He closed the door
Mary snatched Jesus back into her arms, startling him; his small arms flew up into the air. She drew her baby closer to her and spoke loudly to the man. “What is it you mean to say? What are these strange pronouncements?”
Joseph moved closer to Mary, put his arm about her, and began to lead her out. “Pay them no mind,” he said.
Mary looked back over her shoulder at the two old people who stood together, watching them leave the temple.
“But did you hear their words, Joseph? What do they mean?”
“They are old,” he said simply. He helped her onto the donkey. “And we are going home to Nazareth, where we will now raise this child, and many others, in peace.”
But as he led the donkey once again down the road, he turned over and over in his mind the possible meaning of the many strange words spoken to them since Jesus’ birth. The shepherd girl, with her talk of Jesus being a savior, her story of angels coming to the shepherds in their fields on the night of his birth. The rumors of the many others in Jerusalem who had spoken about the birth, and of the people who were journeying to see the baby. And now these two old people at the temple. Some might disregard the words of a simple shepherdess, but Joseph had felt the weight of her words in his heart. And a prophet and prophetess, who said these things in the temple in Jerusalem! Joseph had told Mary to disregard them, but he could not quite convince himself of what he said to her with such confidence.
On the first night of their journey home, he lay awake beside Mary, listening to the cries of wild animals and the wind. But most of all, he listened to the chatter of his own mind, which demanded a rational explanation for all the events that had befallen them. About Mary’s pregnancy, he had his own ideas. As for the rest, he was confounded by it.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Nazareth
Joseph
HEN MARY AND JOSEPH HAD ARRIVED BACK in Nazareth and were nearing their own house, a group of children came running toward them. “They want to see the baby,” Mary said, smiling, and she began loosening the clothes around the baby’s face. But the children did not want to see the baby; rather they wanted to tell Mary and Joseph that there were strangers waiting for them. Men from the city called Saba in Persia, wearing fine robes! And hats! And rings! They had followed a star, they’d said, that had stopped here, directly over the house of Mary and Joseph. They had brought gifts for the baby. Could they see? the children asked. Could they see what the men had brought?
Joseph kindly waved the children away, saying that they should come back tomorrow. Then he drew himself up and walked toward the house, pulling hard on the donkey’s lead to make him move more quickly. He strained to see in the gathering darkness who was at their door.
THERE WERE THREE camels kneeling in the dirt outside Mary and Joseph’s house. They wore bridles decorated with silver and gold, with tassels and bells; and the camels’ saddles, resting on top of ornate rugs, were heavily loaded. Beside the camels sat three men, dressed in fine, heavy robes of purple and blue. One man was young and beardless, stout and ruddy-complected; one was an ancient white-haired man with a long beard that flowed halfway down his chest; the third was black-skinned and so tall he would need to bend, should he come into the house. They wore caps, as the children had said, and Joseph saw on their hands the many rings, as the children had also described—gold, with large stones of red, green, white, and blue. Also, the men wore multiple gold bracelets that jingled musically as they stood to greet the couple and their baby.
Joseph took the last few steps toward them warily. He helped Mary off the donkey and bid her go inside. She hesitated, but did as he had asked. He closed the door
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