It was good to be home again.

It had been a long journey with only Abishag at his side. The crowd that followed him from Jerusalem had dwindled to nothing. Sometimes being a prophet . . . well, it wasn't always what one might expect. One often had to sleep outside and unless one always had a pallet with him, the ground was cold at night. Sandals rubbed blisters, and the dust from the road chafed. One had to move one's bowels behind a rock or a bush. Very unprophet-like.

And so on the day when Nazareth finally came into view, Jesus was once again alone with his thoughts, looking forward to a warm bath and seeing his family. As his feet found the familiar streets, he headed directly for his own home, the dog trotting ahead.

The welcome home was cooler than it might have been. Sarah's heart thudded when she saw the dog and then froze as she saw Jesus following. "Oh!" she said softly, dropping a robe to be laundered, from her hand to the floor. She said nothing else but, remarkably, turned and left the room, presumably to fetch the rest of the family. He heard a small shriek from the interior, and Rhoda came rushing into meet him.

"Jesus!" she cried and ran into his arms. Dear Rhoda, there was nothing to diminish her ebullience. "Oh Jesus!" she said again only slightly more composed. She stepped back as if to take him all in, then joyously hugged him again. Jesus responded in kind, relishing each squeeze. This is what he craved, each moment, each step along the way from Jerusalem.

His mother entered the room, stopped at the threshold of the door and said simply, "Welcome home, my son," and then came to him embracing him tentatively. Jesus sensed a reserve, an aloofness that he had not expected.

"Such a hug?" said Jesus, "What kind of welcome was that?"

His mother stood in front of him; at forty-seven years, her temples greying, the lines in her face deeper. She tried to smile, brushing a wisp of hair from her face. She had gained a few inches here and there, but Jesus marveled that his mother was still beautiful. Her head was uncovered and soft hair fell loosely around her shoulders. Absently, she pulled her cowl over her head.

Her eyes fell away from his. "You've been gone a long time, Jesus. I've missed you."

"Mother, something's amiss. What is it?"

She turned her gaze out the window, toward the lush green hills. "Many years ago Gabriel appeared to me." She spoke of the angel as if he were a dear friend, almost a relative. It was obvious that thoughts of him were familiar to her. "He told me that I would become pregnant without having ever known a man." She turned and her gaze met his. "Since that day, many have spoken to me of you, all through your childhood until this present day. It never ceases."

"Has someone told you . . ?" There was a defensive protectiveness in his tone. He worried that his mother was being harassed because of him.

"No, my son. Most of what people say is intended to bless and encourage, not hurt. Except . . . except what I have heard that you yourself have said of me--and of your family." Her voice caught. "And you're gone so much of the time, Jesus. It seems as if I . . . it seems as if none of your brothers and sisters are important to you anymore." The words and the tears started to spill. "I knew you were special to God since before the day you were born. But I never expected that you would grow up and reject us like this . . ."

Jesus resisted the powerful urge within him to embrace her, to hold her. "I am sorry, Mother. I never meant to hurt you or disparage my family. I love you, I love you all . . . more deeply than you imagine."

"The things you say," she continued, "and teach. Sometimes even your mother cannot understand," her voice caught again, ". . . or endure."

Jesus waited until her composure settled. When she was quiet he called out, "Sarah! Rhoda! Joseph! Milcah! Simon! Judas! All of you! Come in here, please." One by one each appeared. All except James, who was with Peter in Capharnaum. All were quiet. Hurt could be seen in the eyes of Sarah, anger in those of Milcah, distance in the eyes of Simon and Judas, expectancy in the eyes of Joseph and Rhoda. "Here is our mother," he began, "hurt and disappointed because of me." He paused. They waited. "All of you know that I am different than you. I hope you understand that I cannot change this. That I was born not of Joseph, our father, is not something that can be altered."

He spoke as if pleading, desiring earnestly to be understood. "But you are my family. I love you and care for you in a manner unlike I care for any of those who follow me or listen to me teach. If something I have said to others has returned to you in a way that makes it appear otherwise, then I want you dismiss it! You are my family!" he said again with emphasis. "I would do nothing or say nothing to hurt you or alienate you from me. I need you. . ." His voice broke, ". . . I need for you to love me. I need you to accept the calling the Father has laid upon me. I . . . I know it must seem strange to you, as if I did not care, as if you weren't important to me, but I must live out my purpose. I can do nothing else." He hung his head. "Please try and understand this." He remembered the terrible words of Urbanus, "I weary of such pain." He covered his eyes with his hands.

"I understand, my brother." It was Milcah. Of all his siblings, Milcah was the most critical, the most judgmental. She came to him, put her arms about him and held him. In a moment, she was joined by Rhoda, Sarah and his brothers. All of them stood in a circle around him, embracing him, weeping. Mary stood apart and beheld the scene. The tears in her eyes and smile on her face bespoke a relief and a joy she had not known since the day Jesus was born.

"Take us with you, Jesus." The voice was Rhoda's. "Let us follow you and be with you. You need your family with you." Unexpectedly, Jesus began to weep heavily. His emotions seemed lost, out of control. It all came out, all of the pain, the acid debates, the rejection, the hours of deprivation, the healings . . . everything. It all erupted here before his mother, his brothers and his sisters. They gathered as close to him as possible, holding him as tightly as possible. Mary joined them.

In a moment it subsided. They joined hands in a circle. "We are one," said Rhoda. "We shall never be divided."

"We are one," said they all. Jesus simply stood there, moved too deeply to speak.

At length he managed, "It will be difficult for you."

"We are one!" said they.

The dog whimpered, her tail swishing gently.