Despite their silent compliance, Jewish women did not always consider being "unclean" for bodily functions over which they had no control, a compliment. Since the birth of Jesus, Mary and Joseph had been received in the home of Julia and Hermas, two compassionate people who would not hear of Mary and the child "spending one more hour in that horrible stable." Hermas ben David had lived in Bethlehem all his life, his father a Jew, his mother gentile. He had married a Roman woman, not an uncommon practice for Jewish men. Yet they lived as Jews. Julia more tolerated Judaism than embraced it. She had little patience for some Jewish teachings, especially as they regarded women. Still, they were a devout family, and hospitable.

For the first week of Jesus' life, his mother was considered ceremonially unclean until his circumcision. While her unclean status found its basis in Moses, and ceremony, and in the eyes of those who were not unclean, there was no substantial difference between Mary's condition and that of a leper. Julia found this unnecessarily cruel for someone who had just gone through nine months of discomfort and braved the pain of childbirth. "Shameful," she would say, "Even God gets his day of rest, but for us women? Not so much as a grunt of appreciation from the so-called righteous men of this world. Shameful, I say."

Hermas smiled at his wife's complaint. "She's right, you know." He remarked to Joseph. "It is much more difficult in this world to be a woman than to be a man."

"It does seem insufferable that women should be so demeaned as to be considered 'unclean' for any reason connected to childbirth. I do not understand the ways of priests and Levites," agreed Joseph. Especially for this child, Joseph thought.

His mind still recoiling from the previous night's events. It did not seem right for his son to be born in this way. Mary should have had the best midwife in the village. Her mother should have been here. He struggled with some guilt, as any man would, for not doing more for his wife at this delicate time.

But there was no midwife, no women to assist her or care for her needs, to advise her during her labor or about their own child-bearing, no mother to encourage her. Only the dim memories of Elizabeth's labor and, of course, Joseph.

It is not appropriate for men to be present at the time of childbirth. It is just not done. But besides Joseph, there was no one else. Despite this cultural disgrace, another feeling consumed him, a deep inner secret spoken to him by an angel in a dream he would never forget. He had, out of sheer necessity, taken part in the most amazing thing in his young life; the birth of his son. He had been the first to see him--even before Mary. Joseph was all too aware of the origins of this child, but now he was also his son!

For an additional thirty days Mary was forbidden to touch hallowed things and in that time was not permitted even to enter the Temple. After forty days, she was required to offer sacrifice for her purification. Purification? She thought. Purification from what? For having this child? The incongruity appalled her. Purification after a birth required a sacrificial lamb, or if a family could not afford that, two turtledoves or two young pigeons. Joseph, ever mindful of his dwindling purse, watched as the priest broke the necks of the birds and offered them to God. Now, he mused acidly, she is clean! Joseph found the whole process revolting.

At this time also, Jesus, as their firstborn son, would be presented to the Lord for service as a priest. According to tradition and ceremony, they would then "buy him back," or redeem him for the price of five shekels. Joseph rolled his eyes heavenward at the Levitical considerations that had brought the young family to the Temple in Jerusalem when Jesus was barely six weeks old. They dutifully deposited their shekels in the third Trumpet near the raised dais where ordinarily the women worshiped.

As they turned to leave, a man robed in religious vestments stopped them. It was difficult to tell from his clothing, or his manner, what he was doing there, but he seemed as if he belonged to the Temple. The robe was drawn over his head so that its shadow fell over his face. His dress gave the appearance of an official. His demeanor, however, was different. "Please," he said unobtrusively, "just a small moment of your time." There was something in his voice. Age? "May I please look upon your child?" When Mary nodded approval, tentatively, tenderly, he reached his hand and removed the baby's blanket, exposing the infant's face. At the same time, the hood fell from the man's head exposing his face as well. The wrinkles in the corners of his eyes deepened as pleasure splashed over his face. Lines from years of life deepened into exhilaration, his almost white beard of grand length trembled. His voice, choked with emotion rattled, "May I hold him?" Without reluctance, Mary held Jesus out to him. He held the babe close to his breast, hugging him. Jesus smiled back in obvious delight, his little hand unconsciously grasping the old man's beard. Old eyes lifted toward heaven and closed. Wet streams coursed down his cheeks as he whispered, "Now Lord, let your servant depart in peace."

Strange comment, thought Joseph. What could he mean? Who is this old gentleman?

"My name is Simeon." It was a simple, quiet declaration. "I live here . . . well, I almost live here--in the Temple. The Rabbis and priests treat me as if I were a candlestick," he said with a not so wry grin. He looked at the child he held as his finger touched his face. "I have spent years praying for this, waiting for this, hoping for this." He smiled at the young parents. Then again he lifted his face to heaven and said, "And now my eyes have seen your Salvation!" The sparkle in his eyes danced the dance of a field of yellow poppies swaying in the wind. It seemed as if welling emotion would burst from his veins. "Oh," with embarrassment, "I must be making a fool of myself. Please, you must humor an old man," as he gently shifted the child back into Mary's arms.

As Mary held the baby close to her breast, Simeon placed his right hand on the child's brow. He looked first at Joseph and then gazed directly into the eyes of the young mother. "Your son is appointed for the fall and rise of many in Israel," he stated. His features sobered. His wrinkles worked in concert with his mouth as he spoke, "This child will be a sign against which men will speak." Mary's eyes widened. His veined hand lifted from the face of the babe to caress the face of the mother, "My sweet daughter," he said, "A sword shall pierce your own heart also." Mary's breath drew in and caught. "That the thoughts of many hearts may be revealed . . ." She heard nothing else. Her eyes, even her thoughts had blinded at his words. As suddenly as the old man had appeared, he was gone.

"Where . . ?" she whispered. Joseph put his arm around his wife and guided her away.