The Journey: The Missing Years

By Barbara Duquette Sylvain

He was twenty when his father, Yosef, told Yeshua they were going to take a journey together, their last, and Yeshua would learn who he really was: the Messiah. Five years later, Yeshua traveled with Jochanan, his cousin. Yeshua learned he must journey his path alone.

• Language: English
• Publisher: WestBow Press
• Release date: Feb 16, 2016
• ISBN: 9781512729375

Barbara Duquette Sylvain

Barbara Duquette Sylvain lives in northern Maine with her husband, Denis, and her dog, Isabella. She enjoys being outdoors, taking walks in the woods, and trout fishing. This is her first novel.

Book preview

Chapter 1

Sefina

The dog was about two months old. Yosef had her in one big, calloused hand and smiled at Yeshua, amused. His tall, slim son was, for once, taken aback as his father pushed the dirty-white, fuzzy puppy toward him. Yeshua reached out and took her in both dark-stained hands. The puppy paddled her hind legs before settling in. Her front paws dangling over his long fingers, she sniffed the carpenter odors before her light brown eyes met his deep green ones.

Happy twentieth birthday, Yeshua. And many more.

Yeshua laughed his big, uninhibited laugh, startling the puppy.

Well, it’s a unique gift, but thank you, Abba, Yeshua smiled. You and Imma always remember when I was born. It’s being a descendant of David, I suppose. We know every name, from Adam to you. I’m grateful you taught me my lineage.

And finally to you, Yeshua.

And my brothers, added Yeshua. He didn’t mention his sisters or mother, in accordance with Hebrew custom.

Yosef tickled the puppy and put his hand on the slender twenty-year-old’s shoulder, broad from working over the tool bench for so many years.

Yeshua, your mother and I agreed that this year we needed to tell you some things about your family you don’t know, despite all you do seem to know. The Almighty has kept your eyes on your scrolls and on your trade but soon your scrolls will become your trade, like your cousin Jo’chanan.

Abba, I’ve loved learning the sacred texts since I can remember. Do you remember those days at the temple when I was twelve and I had learned enough to teach the teachers? That was thanks to your instruction on the Law and prophets and psalms, and to Imma’s making a holy home.

Yosef groaned as he watched Yeshua kiss the puppy’s black nose and put her on the dusty ground of their courtyard shop, which she immediately used to squat and piddle before she explored the benches and works in the area. Yeshua kicked dirt over the puddle.

I remember, Yosef nodded. You frightened your mother to death and made your father proud of you. But Yeshua, you are not called to be the son of a carpenter. It’s a trade I’m grateful you have to support your mother. But you were called before your birth, before you were conceived, to be a teacher of the Law and of the prophets, and more than that. He took a deep breath. "Yeshua, you were chosen by the Most High to be his Anointed Son, the Son of God. Your brothers and sisters are not what they seem; they are all adopted. Your mother Maryam and I took them in to give you a normal family. But they know you’re not their brother and that I’m their adopted father. The rest of the people in town accept us as all one family. But when your mother was visited by an angel and told she would bear a child by the holy spirit, she was chaste and she has remained so.

I, too, was visited by the same angel and told she would be pregnant by God’s hand, and I agreed to go on with our plans to marry and to … have no relations with one another, to live purely for God—and for you. It has been no sacrifice, Yeshua; you didn’t take anything from us. We gave willingly. It is more than an honor to be chosen as your stepfather and to call the mother of God my wife. I hope I have been the earthly father El Echad wanted for your preparation as His own anointed. And now my time as your father is almost done, and I will return to our heavenly father, El Haggadol .

Yeshua was stunned. Yet every word his father spoke resonated as true.

What ... what will happen to you? Yeshua stumbled, knowing this information was being shared not for his birthday but because the only father he knew on earth was giving his beloved son his final words of instruction.

I don’t know exactly. It’s in God’s hands, and we trust God, don’t we? I can tell you this, Yeshua. You will become greater when your time comes. Now is my time to become less.

Yeshua said nothing, looking at the dirt floor through his tear-filled eyes. Yosef looked at him piteously, recalling his own shock at the events around the young man’s birth: an inexplicable pregnancy, a visit from an angel, homage in a dirty, wet manger from shepherds and kings, a warning in a dream and a rushed journey to faraway Egypt and back again two years later, then taking in children so Yeshua would grow up in a regular family. And dreams throughout the years he shared only with Maryam–revelations of his own destiny and Yeshua’s and dreams brought by angels with gentle reassurances and encouragements of faith. His son seemed never to dream but to know things, remembering everything, observing all. Yet Yeshua was hearing this news for the first time, and as any son would do, he wept at the thought that his father was going to die.

Yosef changed the tone.

I thought you and I would take a trip down to Bet Le’hem and then Yerushalaim. You should see just where you were born and recognized as the future king of the Jews. You’ll be surprised at the place where you were visited by shepherds and kings.

Yes, Abba, it’s a favorite story. There were no rooms at the public inn because of the census and the crowds; the innkeeper offered Imma the stable with the animals, and there I was born.

There in the barn, with every smell of a barn, added Yosef. We were blessed to have that much. Then I’d like you to spend a little time in Yerushalaim, where my son will change the world. I know you wouldn’t mind visiting the temple; it’s the high point of your year when we go.

I would love to see the temple again. It feels like home to me.

Well, it really is your home, son. But so is this, at least for a time. And your new friend—what will you call her?

Maybe Sefina, after you, Yeshua grinned.

Maybe Puddles would be better suited.

Yeshua had to laugh at the dark, wet spots on the ground.

I’ll train her, Abba. Does Imma know about our journey?

She knows. She’ll miss us, but she’ll be glad to see you return home.

Yeshua was silent, not missing the singular reference to his return to Naza Ret, or Nazareth as many called it. Yosef was not coming back, and Imma knew that. Yeshua would be supporting her and at the same time continuing to study his Torah, the prophets, the psalms, and occasionally teach in the local synagogue. At twenty, he should have had a wife and children of his own, but he had known for a long time that he would follow the single path as his cousin Jo’chanan did. Yeshua watched as little Sefina sat at his feet and looked up at him.

Yeshua, the Almighty calls me home. You have great responsibilities now. When I go to my reward, you must go home immediately. You have ten years to prepare for your own journey. You and Sefina. He bent down to scratch the animal behind her ears. Her hind leg thumped rhythmically on the floor. You’ll have plenty of company in the workshop with this little one underfoot. Children all over Naza Ret will want to see the dog that you keep at your side. You teach those children as they come; they’ll listen to you even if their parents won’t. And they’ll grow up and teach their children. They might even follow you. And Sefina. Yosef shook his head. Sefina! A dog is named after me! Good thing you didn’t name her for your mother Maryam and call her Arya or Rya. I doubt she’d be too pleased to have a mutt named in her honor.

I could have given her a magnificent Roman name, such as Clodia or Astronomica or Andria.

El Haggadol forbid you give even a dog a Roman name, Yosef muttered. The occupational forces went even farther north than Naza Ret and the Kinnarett, Sea of Galilee, and were sure to be more and more numerous as they approached southern Palestine.

Abba, the Romans don’t bother us much.

Yeshua had not seen all the times his father’s work had been interrupted by a soldier tired of carrying his furca, or pole, with its pack, who had poked his head into the shop and demanded Yosef carry it for the required mile. Yosef would obediently shoulder the minimally sixty-pound furca and pack the required distance, having counted every step, and then place it on the ground and walk back, the soldier smirking behind him and waiting for the next Jew to come across his path. The furca looked oddly similar to the wooded crucifixes the Romans enjoyed using for their death penalties.

My son, wait until we get to Yerushalaim. Sefina will even suffer their injustices and their stones. And you.

Yeshua, more than a head taller than his father, felt his eyes fill with tears, thinking that his suffering would be in the form of the loss of Yosef. Yosef saw the sensitive eyes of his son glistening and quickly changed the subject.

But we have a long journey, and we will be gone a long time. When you return your little devil of a dog should know well enough to tell you when she needs to go out and not mess in your imma’s house.

Sure enough, the smell of Sefina’s business wafted over to the two men as the puppy waddled back to Yeshua and lay down. He scooped her up and brought her to the pile, scolding her gently. He used a small rag and took the mess out to the waste bucket. It would be a lesson in patience to keep up with this little one’s mischief and mistakes. Once she was trained, though, she would be a good companion.

She didn’t know where to go, son. You will have to take her to a spot where she can go, and do it frequently, even in the night. The more she understands she has a place you’ll take her, the fewer mistakes she’ll make. She’ll want to please you, so be sure to praise her every time. Don’t forget you’re a person and she’s a dog, and you’re not going to get through to her right away. Find simple words she can grasp and stick to them. She’ll catch on. He stroked the sleeping dog’s head. Learn that, and you’ll know how to teach anyone and everyone who can be taught.

How do I know who can be taught, Abba? In the synagogue, people want to learn. Outside, it’s a different story.

Your little friend is at your feet because she loves you already. She knows you are the master. Instinct tells her. God’s spirit will tell people you are the master, and they will also come to your feet to be near you and hear your voice. I know this to be true. You start with this dog and she will show you how to catch people like fish.

Is that why you gave her to me, Abba?

Yosef only smiled and stood up.

I have a plan for our journey, he said. It’s a long trip, but it will be interesting. Once we leave Naza Ret we’ll climb Har HaKarmel and walk along the woods. I would like to see all of the Land that I can. Then we can go down to Qesarya, which the Romans and Herod called Caesarea. You’ll see far more Romans there; it’s their administrative center. We won’t do any carrying, though. They don’t like to go anywhere. You’ll see HaYam HaGadol, the Great Sea, bluer than your mother’s eyes. Then we’ll head to Shimron and you’ll meet a people sure that their religion, so close to ours, is the true religion. Samaritans have no love for Jews, or Jews for them, even though we share worship for our father Abraham. They even have their own Torah. But we’ll come to no harm. I just want you to see their town and their destroyed temple.

Will we stay in Shimron, Abba?

No, I think we’ll make camp a little further south outside of town before we go to Har Gerizim, which is high and will also give us beautiful views of Yisroel. And it is a sacred place to the Samaritans, as you know. He looked sideways at Yeshua. You wonder why we are going to places that hold potential danger. Be not afraid, my son. You are going so you can learn to reach all people, Jews, Samaritans, and Romans. God will protect us.

Where will we go then, Abba? Yeshua hoped it was someplace where they could take a break from trouble, for his father’s sake.

We’ll make our way to Yeriho, Yosef told him. You’ll see the Yar-den River, and maybe Sefina can cool her paws and we can wash off the dust of travel. Just south is Yam HaMelah, the Dead Sea, where we couldn’t dunk ourselves if we tried. It’s too salty. But it will feel good on my tired bones to rest on it! You know King David found it to be one of his favorite spots for relaxation? Imagine being in battle all the time! Your battles will be of a different sort, son. Remember this journey and all you see and all you don’t see. I’m taking you places where you can see all the land, all sorts of it, because people understand their land and they’ll understand you if you speak of it. Wherever you are, use your eyes."

I will, Abba. I’m grateful to you. When we leave the sea, will we head toward Bet Le’hem? Yeshua found himself looking forward to seeing the stable where his parents were forced to go to bring him into the world. Kings and shepherds? David was a shepherd, then a king. Yeshua would have to understand both and be able to share the kingdom of God with both. There was no Jewish king now, except for Herod, but there were Romans. If he could start with just one Roman, that one would talk to others. Yeshua could speak Latin and Greek; everyone could. Greek was the language of the world. He could speak Hebrew and Aramaic as well, like most of the Jews in his hometown. He was thankful for his parents’ easy shift between languages in their home, though they preferred Hebrew. It would be greatly helpful to be able to understand and be understood.

Then he saw how communicating with the puppy was the same. It was a new way of talking for both of them. Just as it would be for those he would be teaching now and later, comprehension and performance sometimes took time and patience. Relating to what they understood, such as the land or their work, was like relating good behavior with rewards for Sefina. He would have to work at finding the right way to teach her just as with the Jews who did not understand the message of God. He looked at his father with loving respect, but then sadness.

And then, he said to Yosef, Yerushalaim.

Yes. Then Yerushalaim. With the Pharisees and Sadducees and the Council, the gatekeepers of our faith, Yosef said, a little sardonically. Remember, Yeshua. You are God’s Anointed, and the time will come when Jews will know that. But some will never accept it. You’re too simple, no matter how great your learning and teaching is. They expect the Son of David to be a king like David, not a carpenter’s son. Not an itinerate preacher. You have never uttered a lie, never committed a sin, Yeshi. They preach that to get into the kingdom of heaven, but they don’t live it. Stand up to them when your time arrives. They are gatekeepers who close the gates to those who most need to get in.

Yes, Abba. I will stand up to them, and to any hypocrite. But Yerushalaim is where you … where you said you’d … .

Your journey begins with Yerushalaim, Yeshua. Mine will end before that. Have no fear. Be bold; be brave, and go on to Yerushalaim. And know how much I have loved you and been filled with pride by all you’ve done. It’s your time, not mine. Carry me in your heart.

Always, Abba, always. I ... you ... . Suddenly father and son embraced, knowing each other’s paths would part soon. I will remember everything, Yeshua vowed.

You always do.

Sefina suddenly snorted in her sleep at Yeshua’s feet.

You’d better rest well, little one, Yeshua smiled through tears. You’ll have pretty sore paws before we’re though.

There was a little time for packing necessities for the journey. Imma had already baked loaves of bread and added figs, dried fish, strips of dried goat—a genuine rarity but a treat fit for the occasion of hard walking and climbing, cakes of traveling food high in fat and protein, a few skins of wine, a few skins of olive oil, small sacks of raisins, a bag of lentils and a sack of flour for the men to make bread and gruel. Larger skins of fresh water. A small sack of spices for flavoring, and she was finished. Maryam had been at a loss at what to provide for the dog, and then decided she could simply share their food. She added a jar of honey and made sure it would seal tightly. What a mess if it broke or leaked!

For Yeshua, packing was a simple matter. Climbing the ladder upstairs to his room, he took his extra sandals, a comb for his shoulder-length hair, a small sewing kit for repairs to his cloak—a woolen, seamless garment that doubled as a blanket, with tassels dangling from the corners. A change of his linen garments—a loincloth, and a calf-length, linen, collarless shirt slightly longer than the cloak; his white linen prayer shawl with dangling ritual tassels at each of the four corners that he would wear over his tunic for part of the day, a knife, and a shoulder bag to carry these things, which were mostly hanging on the wooden pegs each boy had, growing up. Passing his mother’s sleeping space on the way to the stone stairway, next to her padded, stuffed mat, he noticed one of her few head coverings. Quickly he took out his knife and grasping the hem of the garment, he cut off the smallest of squares, hoping the cloth wouldn’t unravel. He wanted a bit of his mother with him for this long trip. The cloth even smelled of her. He smiled and put it in his bag.

Yeshua, what are you up to?

His mother had seen him. He felt his face redden, and then explained that he had known he would be homesick and wanted this piece of his mother to comfort him.

You should take the whole thing, she admonished him. Now I’ll look lopsided and trail threads besides.

All right, I’ll take the whole thing, Yeshua said brightly. Abba will like that as well. He folded and tucked the blue material into his bag, making it bulge, and his mother laughed.

My big mouth, she said. Anyway, all your food is ready to be put on the donkey. Shoshona has quite a load to carry. Make sure your Abba rides her frequently, Yeshua. It’s a hard trip for all of you, but especially for him. Now if you’ll give me the little bit of material you cut from my head covering, I’ll pack his bag. He’ll appreciate just a little square of me. Marriage does that. Less is more.

When the men were packed, the two brothers, Ya’aquov and Shi’mon, who still lived in Naza Ret with their families, stood around to watch them leave along with the two sisters. They were a little envious that their father and brother were having a journey and would see the great Yar-Den, or Jordan River, and the ancient city of Yericho, as they called Jericho. Yeshua hugged them all and kissed the youngest girl, Rocheleh, on her forehead and smiled.

When I come back, you’ll be planning your wedding, he told her, pressing a coin in her hand. She smiled shyly. At 15, she was the youngest and the favorite of them all. She and a young man were betrothed; 15 was the age Maryam had been when she and Yosef, then Yeshua’s age, had been. That was old for a Jewish man, but Yosef had waited until Maryam was ready. They’d had eyes for each other for years. She could have married him when she was twelve and one day; he would have been seventeen and more than ready to settle down. But God had had other plans for them, and it was said there was no happier couple in Naza Ret than Yosef and Maryam.

Be sure to bring the puppy, she teased him.

She may be more of a dog than a puppy, Rocheleh, when I return, but I doubt she’ll be very big. How could I leave her behind somewhere? Of course I’ll bring her home. Maybe you’ll find a puppy of your own, you and Gershon. I’ll be home soon.

Yeshua turned to his mother with tenderness in his hug for her. She knew what she faced when he came back: a life without her partner, her husband of over twenty years. Somehow she understood and accepted that, accepted a lifetime of heartbreak being, as Yosef said, the Mother of God’s Anointed. She had packed his bag without a tear, packed his favorite foods in plenty even if it meant she went without, put his clothes in a sack to put into Shoshona’s saddle bags along with everything else they had to carry, including their small, leather, waterproofed lean-to and blankets, which would serve as padding for riding the big donkey.

As a surprise for Yosef, she had traded a good deal of her woolen and linen goods for a fine saddle so that her husband’s final journey should be in comfort. She had sold cloaks dyed different colors; and head coverings, the long, square cloth folded over that Jews wore to cover their heads and protect them from the sun.

Of course, women could not go outside their homes without this covering; it was the Law, being veiled.

Most men and many women wore some sort of cord after pulling the square, folded into a triangle, over their foreheads, letting the long ends trail down to their tunic hems. And although she didn’t make them for sale, she made sure her men all wore the ritual fringes at the corners of their other clothes visible to anyone to remind them of the Jewish commandments. They wore the prayer shawl over everything else. Yeshua had a beaded, wide, colorful band to hold his head covering in place, made for him by Rocheleh when he turned a bar mitzvah. She was only eight years old. He wore it every day. He had joked to her that he felt like Yosef and the coat of many colors.

Although men usually used their woolen outer garments as blankets, she had woven separate blankets for Yosef and Yeshua. They would be in the mountains, and it was chilly at night.

Yosef came into the main room where everyone was gathered, cheerfully hugging each of the children and kissing the girls as Yeshua had, with a blessing for each of them. He looked them all over, straightening fringes here and there, brushing off lint and dust from his two girls who had helped Maryam with the loom work and gone out to get water at the town well of meager spring water, returning with heavy clay pots without giving a thought to their considerable weight.

Looking at Maryam, Yosef motioned upstairs to another small room in their little house, their sleeping room. Aside from their room, there was the roof for sleeping on during hot nights and for doing laundry and other chores, and the outdoor carpentry shop, the space in the central room for Maryam’s loom which must stay dry, and the small, dark sleeping rooms for the girls and the men, limited now to Rocheleh and Yeshua after years of sharing with their brothers and sister. The two of them let the door close behind them and were alone for a long time. The children and Yeshua looked at the floor, then the door opened.

Well, Yeshua, let’s go before we decide to stay.

Shalom, Imma. Kol tuv. Yeshua smiled at his mother, telling her to be well.

Shalom, Yeshua. Shalom, Yosef. Kol tuv.

L’hiratot, Yeshua. See you soon. Shalom, Abba, the brothers joined promising to see Yeshua soon and peace to their father. We’ll look after Imma, they said of their mother.

L’hiratot, Ya’aquov, Shi’mon. Todah. Yosef thanked them, saying his farewells quietly. If you see Yehuda and Yosef, our fishermen boys, tell them I love them.

Yeshua, where is your dog? cried Rocheleh, then looked at her brother’s feet and saw Sefina curled up, sound asleep.

She’s resting her paws, but it’s time to go. Shalom everyone. Be well.

Yosef had already gotten the loaded donkey out of the small stable and brought her to the front door, smiling broadly. Many thanks, Maryam, for all your hard work in getting this wonderful saddle. My ride will be much more comfortable with it, and with the extra blankets. You are too good to me and to Yeshua. Do we have plenty of water? he asked as everyone came outside, Yeshua with the drowsy Sefina under his arm. She suddenly gave a yip of farewell, and everyone laughed. Yeshua took his place holding the lead rope beside Shoshona, an unusually big but docile animal. His sons settled Yosef into the saddle.

Several skins of water, Yeshua’s brother Shi’mon said. You should find a stream before you get too thirsty.

Todah. Let’s go, Yeshua. But give me the puppy to hold while we go through town. Yeshua obediently handed the animal over to his father, smiling. More likely it was that Yosef wanted to hold Sefina for some comfort than to protect her from the wilds of Naza Ret.

They started forward. Yosef never looked back at the family waving their hands good-bye, or at the wife he would never see again. Yeshua looked back once at the small stone house and the group of family they were leaving behind, then kept his eyes on the dusty road out of Naza Ret.

Chapter 2

Journeying

It was no easy road to Har HaKarmel, or to most places they were traveling, but the days were pleasant and the two men never ran out of conversation. They talked about their trade, of course, and techniques and tools, but Yeshua’s favorite topic was the sacred scrolls. Shoshona plodded along steadily and Sefina learned after one small kick to keep out of the donkey’s ponderous way. She moved her little legs rapidly and her pink tongue would begin to pant when the trek became arduous for a puppy. When Sefina’s pink paws were tired or sore, Yosef, twenty years a father of Yeshua and his brothers and sisters, pointed out the dog’s affliction to Yeshua, who quickly scooped the puppy up and put her in his carrying bag. When she soon outgrew that, he held her in his arms, which wearied even Yeshua.

Let me take her, son, Yosef held out his arms from where he sat on the patient Shoshona. The beast’s step quickened slightly with the strange smell of a dog on her back, but Yeshua stroked her soft muzzle and spoke in her long, hairy ear, and she was calm. As long as Yeshua was in sight, both dog and donkey were content.

Yosef was quiet, then he softly began to sing Zemiros, the songs the family sang around the Sabbath table. Yeshua picked up the tune softly, his father’s favorite. Quickly he glanced at Yosef, whose eyes were closed as he gently petted Sefina.

Sefina is a quick learner, he observed. One little kick tapped her, and she stayed away without a yip or a bark to antagonize Shoshona. She knew whom to trust to take care of her. Keep that in mind, son of my heart. Someday you’ll need to know what to do when someone treats you in a similar way. Silence can often prevail. Our friends the Romans teach us that, as well. There is a time to speak out and a time to stay quiet.

Yes, Abba.

Do you remember the story of how Adam named all of the animals, Yeshua?

Yes, Abba, Yeshua smiled, feeling Shoshona’s soft nose under his hand. She snorted. Every animal came before Adam, where he sat on a rock, and he gave each animal a name, and he taught all their names to Cain and Abel. And Cain taught all his children, and so on until the Tower of Babylon was built, where every human on earth had to make up his own name for the same thing.

Do you believe the story, son?

Yeshua hesitated. I believe that Adam named the animals because the Torah says so. But I also believe it was a story to teach a young boy a greater truth. It was ... a parable. Its true meaning is hidden in something that could be.

That is the way to teach children, with stories that have hidden truths. Only nothing is hidden to Yeshua. But you will teach many children and so invent many stories.

But I don’t intend to marry and have children, Abba. I intend to follow Jo’chanan’s way and study, and teach. Lead people to El Echad.

Yosef looked at him, shaking his head.

You think that Jo’chanan’s followers aren’t like children? Only now do they begin to understand what it means to have a change of heart about their way of thinking about the Lord. Your Imma’s cousin Jo’chanan is blunt and not inclined to tell stories, but Jo’chanan is not you. Your followers will also be like children, and some will be children who should always be considered especially loved and protected by The Name. You need to learn to talk to adults as though they were children, children of God who are just learning your Way.

Abba. You’ve taught me with stories since I can remember. Where do your stories come from?

Yosef smiled. I’ve always had an imagination, Yeshua. I’d make up stories while I worked to keep my mind busy. Sometimes we carpenters pooled our money to pay a man to read the sacred texts to us, and they’d work their way into my stories. He looked around. "Your inspiration will come from many of the places we’ll see on our journey. Keep your eyes and ears open. Ah, look, I see Har HaKarmel getting closer! It is a holy mountain to many, Yeshua. Look at the shape of it. Like Noah’s ark. We’ll lead the animals up to the top and walk ourselves. The top is flat and easy walking through woods, near the sloped side.

Take nature as your teacher now, Yeshua. The people you’ll have as followers understand nature well. They may not be as well versed in prophets. Yet. Now, you tell me a story while we climb to pass the time.

The young man with the longish, sun-lightened hair thought for a moment, looking around himself at the hills, the small trees, the trickling brooks and gushing waterfalls flowing down the mountain-face.

"A father and son went on a long journey together with their big donkey and small dog. The dog would protect them when they camped at night, and the donkey would carry the father as they traveled, as the man was not well. The son thought, ‘I will take care of my father since he took care of me so many years.’ The dog thought, ‘I will warn my people if trouble is near by barking and by attacking the attacker. I will pull the donkey by her rope out of the way.’ The donkey thought, ‘If we run into any trouble, I can still carry the father on my back, and the son can carry the dog, so we can run faster.’

"But that night the father watched as the tired donkey lay down, too tired to stand; and the puppy curled up snoring next to the son, who was sleeping under a blanket.

"The father thought, ‘I bought the dog for my son so he would have a companion. The donkey carries whatever I put on her back, and that’s why I needed her. My son is the light of my life and his mother’s, and he needs his sleep more than an old man does. I can watch over all of them and keep them safe.’

"So he let the donkey rest and the dog stay curled up with his son and watched over them all night in the light of the fire. And though he stayed up all night, he was awake and ready to listen to his son’s prayers and to talk, and hear patiently the puppy’s yips and barks, and the donkey’s soft brays. He found them a pool in a stream with fish to eat, and he had grain for the donkey and dried fish mixed with gruel for the puppy.

"The young man could not have found the fish, and the donkey couldn’t have found the grain, and the dog would never have dried the meat. It was the father who provided for everyone.

So it is with our Father in heaven. He provides for every one of his creatures, but none more than his own children. All creation praises him as it can, as should we, and thank him for his protection and provision. Yeshua smiled. Otherwise, your donkey won’t carry, your dog will run away, and you will surely know hunger!

Yosef smiled, then laughed and clapped his hands in applause.

From now on, the son tells the stories, he nodded. My son, I could not be more proud.

Har HaKarmel was an easy ascent, gradual, with occasional scree slowing them down, but once they reached the relatively flat, wide summit, everyone walked easily. They took their time to hike the length of the mountain, stopping overnight twice and grateful for Maryam’s blankets. Sefina was already letting Yeshua know when she needed to go out and he got up immediately to take her to a spot. In the morning he let her out and she went automatically to the spot before returning to him, wagging her tail. He praised her profusely, then poured water into a bowl for himself and his father to wash their hands and say their morning prayers. When he was done with the water, he gave the bowl to Sefina, and then washed it thoroughly. He gave Shoshona her grains and Sefina some gruel mixed with a little broken-up, dried fish. She ate heartily, as did the two men. After cleaning up and breaking camp, they headed south, letting the dog romp about freely but watching her closely as they talked about all they saw.

The routine continued as they reached Qeysarya, and Yeshua’s eyes widened at the deep blue of HaYam HaGadel, the Great Sea. Yosef rode the donkey and carried Sefina as they passed uncomfortably close to Roman administrative buildings.

As they entered the Karnei Shomrom region, or Samaria, of Yisroel, their pace didn’t slow. Passing through towns, they didn’t stare, just looked around with curious interest lest anyone find offense with their striding through the Samaritan streets. They stopped at a town well to refill their water bags and kept an eye out for anyone who might object.

Yeshua noticed a girl about Rocheleh’s age with a boy her age or older pressing her against the wall of a shabby building. She was turning her head away from side to side and her enormous brown eyes, lined with kohl, and caught Yeshua’s sorrowful green eyes. He could see where this was going. Were it his little sister, he would quickly intervene against the obviously unwanted advances. Here, he could only watch and remember how easily people could be used and manipulated by those more powerful. This girl would have a baby within the year and be lucky if this insistent young man actually married her.

He thought of his younger sister Ruth’s wedding a few years ago; she was barely 13 and the boy just 16, but now they already had two children and one on the way in their tiny home. The girl he remembered as carefree and fun loving was perpetually tired and struggling to be the adult she was expected to be. But that’s the way it went for girls and women; they had few rights and little say in their destiny.

Yeshua had convinced his parents to keep Rocheleh at home longer, until she learned a livable trade and had been trained and taught the Scriptures by his mother. They had listened to him, mostly since they themselves had been older when they wed now were better off than most of their friends who had married young. Rocheleh was engaged to Gershon bar-Lev, a stonecutter, and Rocheleh herself was almost as adept at the loom as Maryam. But she had already accepted Gershon’s token monetary gift and had accepted the contract of marriage, thus completing the process of kiddushin, broken only by death or divorce. Soon Gershon would bring her into his home, the step of nisuin, which Rocheleh both anticipated and feared, as a young girl would. They would spend one more week apart after living as husband and wife for a couple of months, right before the wedding, and then they would celebrate with an elaborate ceremony and feast.

Yeshua had misgivings about Rocheleh’s choice of a husband; he was so different than she. He knew Yosef did, also. Something about seeing this Samaritan girl about Rocheleh’s age made Yeshua think that Rocheleh was in the same predicament. She was too kind, too sweet to say no to any interest that came her way, yet she was anxious to be married at her age and start her own family. Gershon had been overly persistent, and Rocheleh didn’t realize what a beauty she was, inside and out. She had been more interested in perfecting her work on the loom and being with her family than marrying at thirteen, like Ruth. And Rocheleh was ten times the scholar that Gershon was, something Yeshua could see causing friction in their small town. Rocheleh was just too good for Gershon; each of them would be better suited to someone on par with abilities. But Rocheleh was even better at the loom than Gershon, who was awkward and clumsy, was at stone cutting.

Yeshua looked at his father as they passed the girl trying to avoid unwanted advances and knew they were both thinking the same thing.

Get home in time to go to Rocheleh’s wedding celebration, Yosef said. Stand in for me.

I feel badly for that girl, Abba, Yeshua said of the Samaritan girl. She didn’t want that boy.

Well, you’ll cross paths with her again down the road. And you’ll find her life hasn’t changed much.

Yeshua waited a few minutes before he spoke, looking around the impoverished town where a few men lingered in doorways and women at marketplaces, covered head to toe in robes and scarves.

Abba. How is it that you know these things? You know so much about things that ... go beyond the mind. Does the Almighty speak to you?

Yeshua, since I was betrothed to your mother, I’ve had dreams. Revelations about specific things to come. I believe it’s an angel revealing the Almighty’s plan, as he has done before. The dreams are never about me but about you and about Maryam. Only when I planned this journey was my own path shown to me. I accept it gladly. I want to return to our spiritual home, and I know through those … dreams, that Maryam will be well cared for and that you will have many, many followers. As El Haggadol has said, ‘As many as the stars in the sky or the sand on the shore.’ You’ll have years to get ready and to take care of your mother before you leave home and begin your own journey, and your end of the road will not be so pleasant as mine, or so peaceful. But El Hann’emanm, the Faithful One, will prepare you in every way. Your true father is God’s own Holy Spirit, and He will never leave you. But enough. You asked a question and I answered too much. That is how I know what awaits us. Right now, what awaits us is Mount Gerizim, which is lush and green all over one side, unlike Mount Ebal, which is cursed forever and lifeless as the moon.

The foursome climbed Mount Gerizim with little difficulty, though it was the highest point of their trip. Yosef took in the views of a good deal of his homeland, including the River Yar-den, and breathed deeply. The tribes of Simeon, Levi, Judah, Joseph, Issachar, and Benjamin chose this mountain to judge good deeds. The other tribes had to stand on Mount Ebal, Yeshua pondered.

"Which would you choose, Yeshua?’

I’d choose whichever the Almighty chose for me, Yeshua said. But I’d wish for this one.

One man can prove hundreds wrong, Yeshua, if the Almighty is behind him. The tribes were divided all over Yisroel anyway. It will take one man to unite them all again now. He looked meaningfully at his young son.

From Mt. Gerizim they traveled down its eastern face to the Yar-den River. True to his word, Yosef put Sefina’s paws in the slow-moving, muddy water, and she took a few more steps and lapped thirstily at the brown flow. The water contained parasites humans would best avoid, but dogs and donkeys seemed tolerant of much more. Yeshua laughed that she was like Joshua waiting for the water to recede so they could cross. The men pulled their woolen and linen clothing off and stepped into the river until it was waist deep, then dunked themselves to their necks, coming up considerably cleaner despite the brown appearance of the water that had traveled over a hundred miles, beginning clear and sparking and in places wild with rapids. By the time it had slowed down and reached the rain-starved plains, the churning that had cleansed it at Galilee had stopped, leaving a flat, shallow, brown stream.

They took handfuls of gritty mud to wash themselves, head to toe, including their hair, then rinsed over and over to get the sand out, careful to keep the water off their faces. Yeshua kept an eye on Sefina, who tried paddling out to him but tending to drift downstream until he caught her. Her nose was like a nozzle, her tail a rudder, but she was still too small to handle the Yar-den River. Someday she might be good at swimming in the Sea of Galilee.

Once the dog had had her cooling swim and the men were washed and dressed, looking fresh, and Shoshona had sucked up a few gallons of water, they were ready to move further south. Finally they reached the Salt Sea. The water here was undrinkable, but fun. Sefina could almost walk on it as if it were ice. Yeshua kept her at arm’s reach, since the water was hundreds of feet deep in spots. Shoshona walked in up to her flanks and Yeshua was almost sure he heard her sigh. Yosef wasted no time in stripping off his clothing again and forcing his way through the dense water, then stretching out and floating peacefully.

Yeshua followed suit, going so far as to sit up and barely sink. Yosef laughed at him, closed his eyes, and enjoyed thoroughly the time they spent bobbing around in the water. When they came out, they were cleaner than ever, but darker from the sun further south, where temperatures in the approaching summer reached well over 90 degrees in the plains. They couldn’t spare any of their precious water on cloths to wipe the sticky saline residue from their bodies, using instead the brownish water of the Yar-den. Quickly they dressed and got out the same water bags and bowls for the animals, and after filling their dishes, took long draughts of the fresh spring water of the plain for themselves. What the animals didn’t want, Yeshua poured slowly over his lightening hair to rinse out the salt. Yosef, whose thinning hair was black, wasn’t affected by the sunlight or salt, but he did give it a rinse. Yeshua pulled his comb from his travel pack and then tied his hair back with a leather strap. It was hot, all right.

He helped his father onto the donkey and handed the puppy to him, but took her back when Yosef suggested Yeshua take her for a little walk to relieve herself. Sure enough, she functioned and returned to the donkey ready to be lifted up. Yeshua reminded himself that he had to be aware of the needs of each creature, dog, donkey or disciple, who was placed in his care.

Finally, Bet Le’hem! Yeshua quickened his step, pulling Shoshona along so that she was nearly trotting beside him. Where is it, Abba? Sefina bounced along in Yosef’s tight hold.

Yeshua, if it’s still there, it isn’t going anywhere. You needn’t run. It’s behind an inn called ... hmm…Te’enah, The Fig Tree. Let’s see what street it was on. He called to a man in a doorway, My friend, shalom. Where is The Fig Tree Inn? Does it still stand?

The man looked at the dog curiously and walked into the street toward the four. Yeshua halted and said, Shalom, brother. We need to find the street of The Fig Tree Inn. Do you know it?

The man still remained silent, so Yeshua tried Aramaic, and the man smiled toothlessly. Ah, of course. Very popular. And your donkey will have a stable. Go down this street until you come to a sign with a rooster on the left. Turn down that road, and then take your first right. The Fig Tree is three doors down. A green door. You can remember?

We can, thank you, friend. A shekel for your trouble. Yosef tossed him a small coin out of the moneybag under his outer garment. The man smiled and nodded and said, Shmu’el!, thanking them in Aramaic.

The Lord watch over you, Yeshua smiled, tugging at the donkey’s lead rope. When they were out of earshot he looked up at Yosef and laughed. I knew our languages would prove helpful.

Rooster on left, first right, three doors down and there it was, The Fig Tree. Yeshua pulled Shoshona so hard she brayed, so he dropped the rope and ran around the back of the inn. Sefina came racing after him, and Shoshona took her usually steady pace to get to them.

The inn itself was a large courtyard surrounded by columns, between which were receded bare rooms for travelers to this busy town. There was no charge for anyone to stay, only if they needed