Ilia Grinberg - Mother of Jesus

Mary plucked a flower, brought it to her face, closed her eyes and took a deep breath of the sweet-spicy smell. Oh, how good, how tasty! It is a pity that soon Passover. Soon it will be necessary with my parents to go to Jerusalem again. Of course, her father will buy her all sorts of jewelry, you only need to show him what you like, and it's great. But she didn’t like that after the holiday in the synagogues they would stop asking God to give rain to the earth. The real heat will come, and even with God it will make sense to beg only morning dew.

Although it was necessary to ask for dew a couple of weeks ago. It took half a month, as not a single drop fell on completely dry land. A little more and the land flowing with milk and honey will turn into a rocky desert. Flowers will wither and no longer smell , herbs dry out. All living things that can hide will hide from the scorching sun. Her campaigns to their olive grove on the outskirts of Tsiporia will also end.

Maria turned over on her back and, rolling the little stalk between her fingers, tried to find at least one cloud in the sky. In vain. She loved so much these past few weeks, when the winter rains came to an end, began in the spring warm sun, but the land has not yet turned into a scattering of assorted stones. Stones, stones, stones alone is here. Small grains of sand, larger stones, broken in by the wind, sharp, which are capable of hurting the feet, boulders.

Oh, so good, asking mother if she need anything to help, and when you hear her usual words, run out of the gate, turn right and up the hill at the end of the street, run between the olive trees and stretch out in the shadow of the oldest and the most branchy tree in the garden. And then lie down, dream, invent what will happen tomorrow, or in a week, or even next year.

Her service in the Temple ended three years ago. A week before she was twelve, her parents came to Jerusalem for her. They brought a sacrifice - a three-year-old ram, a beautiful, large, combed out animal, without a single spike. The poor man was so exhausted for a long road, that, being unloaded on the ground, with difficulty, swayed, he rose to his feet. Mary did not like to see the sacrifice offered. And, although Shohet deprived the lives of animals in such a way as to bring them the minimum of suffering, the sight of blood always turned it away from this sight. Therefore, she asked for help from her mentor to stay with her parents until the next morning. The family stayed at the inn, which was used only by distinguished guests of the capital, who can afford this expensive pleasure.

“You are well done, my girl,” said the father. “The high priest says only good words about you. You have served our Lord well. However, in a few days your Bat Mitzvah will pass, and according to the law of Moses you will become an adult, and you will no longer be able to be at the Temple. Tomorrow morning our ram sacrificed, and in the evening we will go home. We spend the night somewhere on the way back. I do not like Jerusalem, it is too noisy, and there are so many visitors that you can find local ones with great difficulty.”

“Dad, we will not go to see how they will sacrifice?” Maria asked her father, firmly clinging to him and hiding his face in the folds of his clothes. She knew that her father would like to stay in Jerusalem, saying that he simply do not want to upset her.

In fact, Joakim really liked the capital, and he also wanted his child to serve in the Temple, especially since Anna’s family tree allowed it. Joachim was very sorry that “the Lord of the World” gave him only one child, and a girl, not a boy.

Mary knew all this. They explained something to her, she learned something from overheard adult conversations. Age of majority ... Soon her period will begin, and God forbid, she will defile the shrine with her presence. Tears welled in her eyes, and she hugged her father even tighter. He felt it and, stroking her head, said:

- Nothing, nothing. Do not worry my little bird. You probably missed the house?

Maria sniffled and nodded.

- That's good. Tomorrow home.

Now, lying in the shade of the trees, she thought that it was good that grandfather had left a good heritage to his father. Spacious house that was built by the Syrian craftsman in the Greek style. It was well blown and even on the hottest days there were corners in it, in which it was possible to hide from the unbearable heat. Joachim owned an olive grove, which gave a good harvest, butter-making, where they made oil, which turned into a decent income on the Nazareth market. My father hired workers who took care of the trees, cut something, and loosened something near the trunks. Somewhere far outside the city, several people grazed a large herd of goats belonging to their family, milked them, making cheese according to a family recipe, others worked at sheep, cut their wool, so that the owner could sell it to weavers on market days in Nazareth or Jerusalem.

She knew that sooner or later, her father would find her groom and she would leave her parent’s house. This is written in the Torah, and no one can proceed to the Law. She imagined a man who would become her husband, waited for a wedding and at the same time was afraid of starting an independent life. At her father worked a young guy whose name was John. He commanded all the shepherds who worked for her father, although he was only twenty years old. Her father singled him out among other workers as soon as he came to be employed. The guy was smart, hardworking and had all the makings of a leader. Sometimes Maria thought about him, because he was handsome and she liked him very much. But Joakim's daughter never told anyone. She was afraid to admit it even to herself. And the head of the shepherds, he is just the same as the owner’s daughter. Of course, he understood that Joachim would agree to give his only daughter for him, a miracle must happen. But he is not very religious, because he has to work from dawn to dusk, and do not believe in miracles.

At the very edge of the olive grove, two men took rest. The one, whose name was Bilam, was young, no older than thirty, tall and strong in the shoulders. He tied a donkey to a tree, and, having untied the bag, wanted to throw it on the ground.

“Hey, what are you doing! Be careful,” the partner shouted at him. He was about fifty, but he looked seventy. It was evident that life patted him thoroughly.

“That's okay, Beor, what are you? I can't joke anymore.”

“Do you want to leave us without drinks? Get the jugs, put them on the ground and you can start joking,” the older one muttered grumpily. It was evident that, despite the short stature, thinness and general nondescript appearance, he was the leader in this small company.

Bilam, glancing at the elder, gently lowered a bag of provisions to the ground and unpacked it. Straightening, he looked around. Place for a halt was just great. Not far from the city, but hidden from it by a hill. Large garden of olive trees, which gave saving shadow. And a lot of branches lying on the ground, remaining from the work carried out in the fall.

“Again I have to do everything” he thought evilly, looking at his partner, who was already snoring in the shade of the tree. Bilam was constantly enraged that all the black and hard work was done to him, but he couldn’t say anything against it. He could carry a stolen ram on his back all day long, could knock a young bull with one blow on his forehead, could catch a chicken with one throw and unscrew her neck before it sighs. But to organize the theft of this sheep or to find a place where no one would notice the loss of the bull, with this he had problems. That is why he, while old and experienced Beor took him as his assistant, very rarely was full, but often a bit.