“Help your mother,” he said weakly. “She has been a good wife.”
The curtain at the doorway rustled as Miriam rushed in. Behind her, his two sisters peered into the room.
“I heard voices.”
“He is struggling to speak,” Yeshua replied. “I fear he is near the end.”
Miriam knelt by the bed and began kissing her husband. “Yosef, oh my dear Yosef!”
His eyes opened. “Miriam,” he said and cleared his throat. “Miriam.” He paused for breath. “I was never the one to speak of it.” He glanced towards Yeshua. “You must tell him.”
Yosef’s hands clutched at her as he tried to pull himself further up. His eyes implored her. “It is your story.” He fell back. “Your story.”
At the doorway, sisters Elisheva and Rebekah held the curtain to one side as their brothers poured into the small room. Yaakob, the next oldest to Yeshua, was the most alert, his eyes focused on his father. The face of Yosa, “Little Yosef,” was grim. Yehuda rubbed sleep from his eyes as Shimeon, the youngest, limped into the room, his eyes moist with tears.
Yosef’s gaze rested on the faces of his children and he mustered strength to speak.
“I love you all. You have been a blessing to me.” He coughed harshly. “Listen to Yeshua.”
The voice faded. Yosef gasped twice more. The eyes that had shone in the light of the lamp turned dim and cold.
Yeshua lowered him to the bed.
“He trusted me,” Miriam said softly. “May the Lord bless him forever.”
Yeshua glanced at her, puzzled by her words. She turned to him.
“Say the prayer,” she murmured fiercely. “Say it now, while he is still warm.”
There was no puzzle about these words. Yeshua nodded. He lifted his hands upward and spoke.
“Heavenly Father, our help in every time of trouble. May your great name be exalted and sanctified in the world, which you created according to your will. Establish your kingdom; may your salvation blossom and your anointed be near. Receive now your servant Yosef. May he hear your words of welcome, ‘Come, O blessed faithful. Enter the joy of my heavenly home and rest from your labors.’” Yeshua paused. “So be it, now and forevermore.”
Miriam and the others said in unison, “Dominion and fear are with him; he makes peace in his highest heaven.”
Yeshua’s hands lowered.
“Thank you,” Miriam whispered. His sisters began the keening ululations of mourning. Beneath the sounds of grieving, she turned to Yeshua and spoke, her voice heavy with emotion.
“You are the head of our house now.”
“Yes. But what is it you must tell me?”
“Not now. Once all has been done according to our ways.” Miriam raised a hand to caress his face. “Yeshua,” she whispered. Then she turned and fell across her husband’s lifeless body, her cries mingling with those of her daughters and her tears falling alongside theirs.
Chapter 3
The long night was over. At dawn Yeshua and two of the older leaders of the synagogue took Yosef’s body in a plain cloth shroud to the burial cave in the hillside near the cemetery. Elisheva and Rebekah followed at a respectful distance behind them. Elisheva carried the sponges and water basin for washing the body, Rebekah, the spices for anointing and the white linen winding cloth.
The three men grunted as they pushed the large rolling stone away from the entrance to the cave. The cave had been hollowed out of the hillside by Yeshua’s great-grandfather. There were a dozen other caves nestled at the foot of the hill; they were made by prosperous members of the synagogue to remedy overcrowding in the town cemetery.
Yeshua and one of the others carefully carried Yosef into the tomb and lowered him onto a stone slab laid atop stone plinths in the tomb’s anteroom. Slowly they unwrapped the plain cloth to reveal the corpse. Returning to the small doorway, Yeshua beckoned to his sisters. He took the sponges and water basin and handed them inside the tomb. Then he took the other elements himself and returned to the anteroom.
The three men recited the burial prayers as they washed the body and dried it. The anointing spices were applied and then the winding cloth carefully was wrapped as Yeshua recited the final prayer.
They stood silent at the prayer’s end. Yeshua looked to the side of the anteroom where a large chest stood. It had been made by his great-grandfather and contained his bones and those of his family members, as well as the bones of his grandfather’s family.
And soon, the bones of my father will rest in that chest and later the bones of all my family, and myself as well, he thought. A sudden coolness came over him like a cloud shading the sun.
He nodded to the others. They lifted feet and head of the enshrouded figure and slowly moved to the inner room of the cave. It was a small space dominated by an earthen shelf to one side. The body was laid there.
After another moment of silence the two older men left the tomb, carrying the basin and sponges, which they handed on to the sisters. Yeshua carried the plain cloth and his father’s nightshirt into the morning air.
Once the large stone was moved into position, Yeshua stood looking at it for a moment longer. In three years I will come and remove the bones from the cloth and add them to the chest.
He turned and joined the other four in the walk to the village.
In the afternoon they and many others dressed in their best clothes returned with the elderly rabbi of their synagogue.
After the customary prayers, the rabbi gave thanksgiving for the life of Yosef. Not only was Yosef a man of honor and peace, he said, but also he was a man well versed in the Law and the Prophets. The rabbi nodded approvingly at Yeshua, stating that Yosef’s son took after his father and was known in the town for his own learning. Ah, remember the Passover when we thought young Yeshua was lost and all the time he was safely conversing with the elders of the Temple. What a joy that was! Then the rabbi reminded his listeners that thanks to the providential working of the Lord the people of the Nazareth congregation were not like followers of the Sadducees, who believed this life was all there is. No, Nazareth and other towns of Galilea followed the true and holy teachings of the Pharisees, who teach that the just and pure in heart know that their Redeemer lives and they will live in glory with the Holy One.
Yeshua waited for the words to end. He smiled as he thought of the feast that had been prepared for friends in the village and others who had come from afar to honor his father’s life of craftsmanship and wisdom. It was almost time for the final prayers. The rabbi was an honored guest at the feast and understood that the meal would soon grow cold.
Yeshua looked around at the people standing with him in a semicircle around the tombstone.
Two men of the synagogue glanced at him. Their grown sons stood beside them.
Yeshua had a sudden recollection of how fierce Yosef had been with them so many years ago. Their sons had been taunting Shimeon as he limped homeward one day. Shimeon and the two sons—all three must have been no more than six years in age at the time.
“Born of imperfection,” they had cried, fingers pointing as other children came from side streets to see what the fuss was about. “Child of sin!” Other words followed.
Shimeon had limped faster toward the door of the woodworking shop, where Yosef, Yeshua and Yaakob peered out at the commotion.
Yosef’s face had turned dark red, and he yanked Shimeon into the shop and turned on his tormentors and the children who had gathered behind them.
“Go home, you idiots!” he had shouted, pointing at the two who were taunting.