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CHAPTER XI Anna
Making their way out of the Court of Women, they approached an ancient woman sitting at the base of a marble column near a series of stairs leading away from the Temple.
Although she had the appearance of a beggar, she did not hold out her hand, she asked for nothing. She did not cry for alms. Her name was Anna and she had sat in this very spot every day since time past remembering. Some said she was over a hundred years old. Here in the Temple, she fasted and prayed, a woman of deep faith. Like Simeon, she waited.
When she saw Joseph and Mary approaching, holding the child, she held up her hand as if asking them to stop. While the young couple was anxious to leave, the commanding presence of this elderly woman compelled them to stop yet again. Stiffly, with no small difficulty, she stood. One hand propped against the column, she beckoned with the other for them to come nearer. Warily, they did. "I wish to see the child," she croaked, her voice weak with years.
She made no attempt to hold Jesus. Her balance would not have permitted that. Yet the urge to do so compelled her to reach forth her hand to touch the infant's cheek. And with that solitary touch her face radiated pleasure. Eyes of amazing blue, clear of the onslaught of age, gleamed at the baby. Her expression changed to one of wonder. Suddenly, inexplicably, she began to sing with the voice of a songbird,
Let now your Light Precede the flight of angels To ease the affliction of Your children. The notes floated with such crystal clarity that all who heard stopped to listen. The delicate sweetness of each note, punctuated with stately elegance lifted the hearts of all who heard. Amazing incongruity, that a voice which only croaked above a whisper, could sing in such lovely triumph. One by one, others started to join the paeans of praise. Mary and Joseph looked about ill at ease at the attention. Those who sang with Anna did not know to whom or of what the notes pealed. Still, the sanctity and force of the old woman's song caught them up. She knew. And that, it seemed, was all that mattered.
The trip back to Bethlehem from Jerusalem was short--about two hours. On the way, Joseph thought once again of work. Concern for generating income nagging at his thoughts almost preempted the wonder of being a father. When they arrived at the home of Hermas ben David, the women discussed the baby and the events in Jerusalem. Joseph and Hermas spoke of other things. Hermas ben David was a man of some means. He was known up and down the caravan routes as a merchant of oils, fine fabrics and wines. Gold often crossed his hands, silver and fine jewelry. He and Julia had one child, a son eight years old named Urbanus. He dreamed of being a soldier when he grew up. "Stay with me, my young friend," he said to Joseph. "Stay with me until you are established. With your skills, I see no reason why you shouldn't soon flourish." Joseph found it difficult to believe that a stranger, especially one who is half gentile, would make such an offer. It wasn't that Joseph hated Romans; it was that he had learned what treatment to expect from them. Hermas could see the wary embarrassment in the eyes of his new friend. Being almost ten years his senior, perhaps a firm elder brother approach might be effective. "I quite insist, Joseph," he ventured. "You have no choice but to stay with me and Julia. Mary and the baby need Julia's help at this difficult time." Joseph had to agree. "Further, I would enjoy assisting you in setting up shop. It's been a long time since I've helped start a business." He sat back as if the arrangement had been concluded. Joseph remained silent. "Joseph," said Hermas almost pleading, "Let me help you. For the sake of the Lord God, for the sake of that wondrous child, let me help you. Do not be blind to the possibility that God has put me in position to care for you." Joseph buried his face in his hands and nodded his head. He didn't know how to express his gratitude.
Aside from being the birthplace of King David, Bethlehem was also known as the burial place of Rachel, beloved wife of Jacob ben Isaac, and mother of Joseph and Benjamin. The town and its environs were often called "the land of Benjamin." When Rachel died, Jacob erected a stone edifice there later to be known as the pillar of Rachel. Of this place Jeremiah prophesied,
"A voice is heard in Ramah, lamentation and bitter weeping, Rachel weeping for her children, refusing to be comforted, because they are no more." These words burned fiercely in the hearts of all Israelites who longed for hope in the promise that followed:
"Refrain your voice from weeping, and your eyes from tears; for your work shall be rewarded, says the LORD, and they shall come back from the land of the enemy. There is hope in your future, says the LORD, that your children shall come back to their own border. The people of Judea, indeed all Israelites began to view themselves as the "children of Rachel" and waited for the promised deliverance. And when the prophet Micah prophesied,
though you are small among the thousands of Judah, yet out of you shall come forth to Me the One who is to be Ruler in Israel, whose goings forth are from of old, from everlasting." It was not an impossible leap of logic for the Rabbis and teachers to conclude that Bethlehem would be the birthplace of Messiah, the One to deliver Rachel's children from the terrible bitterness of her tears. Joseph wandered to the edge of town. Later people would know, or thought they knew, the precise spot where Rachel was buried. But in Joseph's time, they knew only that it was "a little distance" from Bethlehem in the town's surrounding environs. "Somewhere out here," he thought, "is where Mother Rachel is buried. Oh, if she only knew, if she only knew." His thoughts began to excite as his feelings enlarged. "This is it!" he exclaimed. "This is the place where, with Hermas' help--with God's help--I will build my home, where I will earn my bread with the skill in my hands." I will take upon me the trait of Mother Rachel. I will never give up! I will not despair! The story of Ruth took place here. Nearby was where Samuel anointed David. So, Joseph dreamed and planned. Such is the way with men--but not with God. As it is with most men, he was not really aware of what God was doing. Above him in the eastern sky, a distant star glinted unnoticed.
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