“With all due respect. Your friend, Biff. Amen.”
I was never very good at prayer. Storytelling, I’m fine with. I, in fact, am the originator of a universal story that I know has survived to this time because I have heard it on TV.
It begins: “Two Jews go into a bar…”
Those two Jews? Me and Josh. No kidding.
Anyway, I’m not good at prayer, but before you think I was a little rough on God, there’s another thing you need to know about my people. Our relationship with God was different from other people and their Gods. Sure there was fear and sacrifice and all, but essentially, we didn’t go to him, he came to us. He told us we were the chosen, he told us he would help us to multiply to the ends of the earth, he told us he would give us a land of milk and honey. We didn’t go to him. We didn’t ask. And since he came to us, we figure we can hold him responsible for what he does and what happens to us. For it is written that “he who can walk away, controls the deal.” And if there’s anything you learn from reading the Bible, it’s that my people walked away a lot. You couldn’t turn around that we weren’t off in Babylon worshiping false gods, building false altars, or sleeping with unsuitable women. (Although the latter may be more of a guy thing than a Jewish thing.) And God pretty much didn’t mind throwing us into slavery or simply massacring us when we did that. We have that kind of relationship with God. We’re family.
So I’m not a prayer-master, so to speak, but that particular prayer couldn’t have been that bad, because God answered. Well, he left me a message, anyway.
As I emerged from the olive grove, Joshua held out his hand and said, “God left a message.”
“It’s a lizard,” I said. It was. Joshua was holding a small lizard in his outstretched hand.
“Yes, that’s the message, don’t you see?”
How was I to know what was going on? Joshua had never lied to me, never. So if he said that this lizard was a message from God, who was I to dispute him? I fell to my knees and bowed my head under Josh’s outstretched hand. “Lord have mercy on me, I was expecting a burning bush or something. Sorry. Really.” Then to Josh, I said, “I’m not so sure you should take that seriously, Josh. Reptiles don’t tend to have a great record for getting the message right. Like for instance, oh, let’s see, that Adam and Eve thing.”
“It’s not that kind of message, Biff. My father hasn’t spoken in words, but this message is as clear as if his voice had come down from the heavens.”
“I knew that.” I stood up. “And the message is?”
“In my mind. When you had been gone only a few minutes this lizard ran up my leg and perched on my hand. I realized that it was my father giving me the solution to our problem.”
“And the message is?”
“You remember when we were little, the game we used to play with the lizards?”
“Sure I do. But the message is?”
“You remember how I was able to bring them back to life.”
“A great trick, Josh. But getting back to the message…”
“Don’t you see? If the soldier isn’t dead, then there was no murder. If there was no murder, then there is no reason for the Romans to harm Joseph. So all we have to do is see that the soldier is not dead. Simple.”
“Of course, simple.” I studied the lizard for a minute, looking at it from a number of different angles. It was brownish green and seemed quite content to sit there on Joshua’s palm. “Ask him what we’re supposed to do now.”
Chapter 6
When we got back to Nazareth we expected to find Joshua’s mother hysterical with worry, but on the contrary, she had gathered Joshua’s brothers and sisters outside of their house, lined them up, and was washing their faces and hands as if preparing them for the Sabbath meal.
“Joshua, help me get the little ones ready, we are all going to Sepphoris.”
Joshua was shocked. “We are?”
“The whole village is going to ask the Romans to release Joseph.”
James was the only one of the children who seemed to understand what had happened to their father. There were tear tracks on his cheeks. I put my arm around his shoulders. “He’ll be fine,” I said, trying to sound cheerful. “Your father is strong, they’ll have to torture him for days before he gives up the ghost.” I smiled encouragingly.
James broke out of my embrace and ran into the house crying. Mary turned and glared at me. “Shouldn’t you be with your family, Biff?”
Oh my breaking heart, my bruised ego. Even though Mary had taken position as my emergency backup wife, I was crestfallen at her disapproval. And to my credit, not once during that time of trouble did I wish harm to come to Joseph. Not once. After all, I was still too young to take a wife, and some creepy elder would swoop Mary up before I had a chance to rescue her if Joseph died before I was fourteen.
“Why don’t you go get Maggie,” Joshua suggested, taking only a second from his mission of scrubbing the skin off his brother Judah’s face. “Her family will want to go with us.”
“Sure,” I said, and I scampered off to the blacksmith’s shop in search of approval from my primary wife-to-be.
When I arrived, Maggie was sitting outside of her father’s shop with her brothers and sisters. She looked as frightened as she had when we first witnessed the murder. I wanted to throw my arms around her to comfort her.
“We have a plan,” I said. “I mean, Joshua has a plan. Are you going to Sepphoris with everyone else?”
“The whole family,” she said. “My father has made nails for Joseph, they’re friends.” She tossed her head, pointing toward the open shed that housed her father’s forge. Two men were working over the forge. “Go ahead, Biff. You and Joshua go on ahead. We’ll be along later.” She started waving me away and mouthing words silently to me, which I didn’t pick up.
“What are you saying? What? What?”
“And who is your friend, Maggie?” A man’s voice, coming from near the forge. I looked over and suddenly realized what Maggie had been trying to tell me.
“Uncle Jeremiah, this is Levi bar Alphaeus. We call him Biff. He has to go now.”
I started backing away from the killer. “Yes, I have to go.” I looked at Maggie, not knowing what to do. “I’ll—we—I have to—”
“We’ll see you in Sepphoris,” Maggie said.
“Right,” I said, then I turned and dashed away, feeling more like a coward than I ever have in my life.
When we got back to Sepphoris there was a large gathering of Jews, perhaps two hundred, outside of the city walls, most I recognized as being from Nazareth. No mob mentality here, more a fearful gathering. More than half of those gathered were women and children. In the middle of the crowd, a contingent of a dozen Roman soldiers pushed back the onlookers while two slaves dug a grave. Like my own people, the Romans did not dally with their dead. Unless there was a battle ongoing, Roman soldiers were often put in the ground before the corpse was cool.
Joshua and I spotted Maggie standing between her father and her murderous uncle at the edge of the crowd. Joshua took off toward her. I followed, but before I got close, Joshua had taken Maggie’s hand and dragged her into the midst of the crowd. I could see Jeremiah trying to follow them. I dove into the mass and crawled under people’s feet until I came upon a pair of hobnail boots which indicated the lower end of a Roman soldier. The other end, equally Roman, was scowling at me. I stood up.
“Semper fido,” I said in my best Latin, followed by my most charming smile.
The soldier scowled further. Suddenly there was a smell of flowers in my nose and sweet, warm lips brushed my ear. “I think you just said ‘always dog,’” Maggie whispered.