The Expected One (35 page)

Faced with the opportunity to convert more sinners and teach God’s path of penance to the children of Israel, John agreed to marry the Benjamin girl and take his place in the history of his people.

The wedding of Mary, the daughter of the house of Benjamin, and John the Baptizer, from the priestly lineage of Aaron and Zadok, took place on the hill of Cana in Galilee. It was well attended by nobles, Nazarenes, and Pharisees. As promised, Easa attended with his mother, his brothers, and a group of their disciples.

John’s pious mother, Elisabeth, had been a cousin of Easa’s mother, Mary. But both Elisabeth and her husband, Zacharias, had been dead for a number of years by the time of their son’s wedding. There was no immediate relative to make the proper arrangements for the celebration, and John himself was neither knowledgeable nor concerned about the protocol. When the Great Mary observed that the guests were not properly provided for, she stepped in to take charge of the preparations as an elder female of John’s kin. She went to where her own son sat with several of his followers and said, “They have not enough wine for the wedding feast.”

Easa listened to his mother carefully. “What has this to do with me?” he asked her. “This is not my wedding. It would not be proper for me to intervene.”

The elder Mary disagreed and said so to her son. First, she felt an obligation to ensure that the wedding feast was appropriate in memory of Elisabeth. But beyond that, Mary was a wise woman who knew the people and the prophecies. This would be an opportune time to remind the assembled nobles and priests of her son’s unique position in their community. Easa agreed with some reluctance.

Summoning the servants, Mary gave them instructions. “Whatever he asks of you, do it without question.”

The servants waited for Easa’s direction. After a moment he requested that they bring six large pots to him, each filled to the brim with water. The servants did this, placing the clay water pots before him. He closed his eyes and said a prayer, running his hands over each of the containers as he did so. When he had finished, he instructed the servants to draw out the liquid. The first serving woman did so, and dropped her serving cup. The clay pots were no longer filled with water. A rich and sweet red wine filled each one.

Easa instructed a servant to take a cup of wine to Caiaphas, who officiated at the ceremony. Caiaphas lifted his glass to John, the bridegroom, and praised him for the quality of the wine.

“Most serve fine wine early in the day and save the poor quality for the end, when few will notice,” Caiphas joked. “But you have saved the best wine for last.”

John looked to Caiaphas with some confusion. Neither he nor the priest had any knowledge of what had transpired. The only inkling that anything was out of the ordinary was the low mumbling of a few servants in the background and a few of the Nazarene disciples. But it would not be long before everyone in Galilee knew exactly what had taken place at the wedding in Cana.

Following the wedding of John and Mary, no one was speaking of the bride and bridegroom. Indeed, the dynastic merge had been completely overshadowed by something more extraordinary. The subject of discussion among the common people was the miraculous transformation of water into wine by the younger prophet. In this, the northern region of Galilee, the name of Easa was on everyone’s lips. He was their only messiah, regardless of the manipulations that stemmed from the Temple.

John’s power and popularity grew to the south, from the banks of the Jordan near Jericho, through Jerusalem, and down into the desert areas of the Dead Sea. Fueled by the Temple priests, the numbers of John’s followers swelled until the banks of the river were overflowing with men petitioning for baptism. John’s insistence that these men keep the law in strictest accordance increased the number of sacrifices — and therefore the coffers in the Temple. Everyone was pleased with the outcome of their arrangement.

Everyone save Mary Magdalene, who was now wed to the Baptizer.

It was perhaps a blessing that this was a union desired by neither the bride nor the bridegroom. John wanted only to remain in the wilderness and do God’s work. He would abide by the law, which required men to be fruitful and multiply, and visit his wife at the appropriate times for reasons of procreation. But other than those periods specifically dictated by law and tradition, he had no interest in keeping the company of any woman.

Settling on a place for Mary to live had been the first order of business for the newly wed John. He made no secret that she was not welcome in the vicinity of his ministry. Indeed, the Qumran Essenes did not allow women to live with them at all, but exiled them to separate buildings because they were naturally unclean. And John’s mother was dead, which was problematic. Had Elisabeth been alive, Mary would have lived in the home of her in-laws.

The issue was discussed by John and Lazarus prior to the wedding, and Mary had prompted her brother on her wishes. Lazarus urged that his sister be allowed to continue to live with him and Martha on their family estates in Magdala and Bethany. This would provide Mary with constant companionship as well as the chaperoning of a pious man and woman. And Bethany was an easy enough distance from Jericho, for those rare occasions when John was required to visit his wife.

It was an appropriate solution and an easy one for John, who had little interest in Mary’s general activities other than the assurance that she conduct herself as a pious and repentant woman at all times. If this girl was to be the mother of his son, she must be beyond reproach. Mary assured John that in his absence she would obey her brother as she always had. She tried not to let her joy show when the agreement was made for her to stay with Lazarus and Martha.

But Mary’s pleasure was short-lived as John laid down the rest of his laws. He would not suffer Mary to be in the presence of Nazarene teachings. She would not be allowed to visit the home of the Great Mary, her most revered teacher and friend. And she would certainly never appear in public where Easa was speaking. John was rankled by the fact that some of his own disciples had left the banks of the Jordan to follow his cousin. The Baptizer berated them for becoming Nazarenes and called them by the accursed title “seekers after smooth things.” A rivalry was developing gradually between the very different ministries of the Nazarene Easa and the ascetic Baptizer. John would not be shamed by his own wife; she must never be allowed in the presence of the Nazarenes. John extracted this as a solemn vow from Lazarus.

Young, naïve, and never exposed to anything but love and acceptance, Mary attempted to argue this with John, but met the first of her husband’s blows as she tried to object. John’s hand left an imprint on Mary’s cheek for the remainder of the day as a firm reinforcement that she would not argue with him about matters of obedience. The Baptizer abandoned his bride to her home in Magdala the same day without so much as a farewell.

Mary dreaded John’s visits and was grateful that they happened seldom and were separated by long periods of time. John came to Bethany only when he was in the vicinity for his own purposes, usually when traveling from his riverside shrine to Jerusalem. He inquired after Mary’s health formally, and when it was appropriate under the law he performed the duties of a husband. During these visits John would spend time instructing Mary on the law and providing penitent tasks all the while advising her that the kingdom of God was at hand.

As a princess of the house of Benjamin, Mary knew it was unseemly to compare her husband to another, but she could not help it. Her days and nights were filled with thoughts of Easa and all he had taught her. It amazed her that both Easa and John preached much the same thing — that the kingdom of God was approaching — because the meaning was so different for the two prophets. From John, it was an ominous message, a dire warning of terror for the unrighteous. From Easa, it was a beautiful opportunity for all people who opened their hearts to God.

On the day Mary learned that Easa was coming to Bethany with his mother and a group of Nazarene followers, she felt the joy return to her heart for the first time in many, many days.

“They will not stay here. And you cannot go to see them, Mary. Your husband forbids it.” Lazarus set his face like a stone against his sister’s pleading.

“How can you do this to me?” Mary wailed at him. “These are my oldest friends — and some of them are your oldest friends as well. The fishermen Peter and Andrew, who played with us on the steps of Capernaeum and the shores of Galilee. How can you refuse them hospitality?”

The strain of the decision showed on the face of Mary’s brother. To turn away his childhood friends, as well as Easa and the Great Mary, who were both revered children of David, was an excruciating decision. But Lazarus had orders from the high priest not to admit the Nazarene faction as they passed through on their way from Jerusalem. Further, his sister’s husband had given explicit instructions that she was not to be in the presence of Nazarene teachings. Lazarus had taken a vow to keep Mary pious within the boundaries laid out by her husband.

“I do this for your benefit, sister.”

“Just as you married me to the Baptizer for my own benefit?” Mary did not wait for his answer or to see the shock on his face. She stormed through the house and into the garden, where she allowed herself to cry.

“He really does want what is best for you.”

Mary hadn’t heard Martha follow her; she had been too immersed in her misery to pay attention. And as much as she loved Martha, she did not want to hear further lectures on obedience. Mary began to speak, but Martha cut her off.

“I am not here to chastise you. I’m here to help you.”

Mary looked at Martha carefully. She had never known her brother’s wife to go against his wishes or oppose him in any way. Yet there was a quiet strength that ran through Martha, and Mary saw that look of strength on her sister-in-law’s face at that moment.

“Mary, you are like my own sister, in some ways like my own child. I cannot bear to see the pain you have suffered in this passing year. And I am proud of you, as is your brother. I know he doesn’t tell you that, but he tells me all the time. You did your duty as a noble daughter of Israel, and all of it with your head held high.”