The conversation and pleasantries continued for a time before Jesus realized that Julia had absented herself. She was gone for only a moment when he saw her re-enter the room with a tray in her hands. Odd-looking pastries were on the tray. He instantly knew by the familiar aroma what they were: Delicious, mouth watering Hamantashen!

It was time for Jesus to be excited. "Haman's Hat!" he exclaimed. "I haven't had one of those since I was a child."

"Haman's Ears," corrected Hermas, "or so some say. Personally, I disagree. Ears do not have three corners!" with feigned disgust. The pastries were usually served only at the Feast of Purim. Each had three corners and was filled with sweet prunes and poppy seeds.

"My mother used to make these," said Jesus recalling fond memories.

"As does every Jewish mother. She no doubt still makes them."

Such warm, fervent hospitality touched Jesus deeply. "I have not erred in coming here. You honor me with your love and faith. And my brother," speaking to the soldier, "your sword shall never be drawn in my defense, but it is comforting to know it is there." He waited for the emotion of the moment to pass and said, "Your generosity to me and my parents may never be known . . ."

"We did not proffer it to be known!" said Hermas.

"I know that, and so does my Father in heaven."

There was a noticeable change in the expression of Urbanus. "You speak comfortably of Yahweh as your Father as if his blood coursed through your veins, Jesus." said Hermas. "Tell us of him. What is he like?"

"I have two fathers in heaven now. My father Joseph is gathered to his fathers. He, too, is in the bosom of Abraham."

"We heard," from Julia. "We were deeply grieved."

"I did not even attend his funeral," said Jesus quietly.

"As you say, Jesus, he was not there. He was in your Father's care."

Jesus considered for a moment. It was odd that this loving family should remind him of the obvious. He knew that Joseph now enjoyed the literal presence of God, yet to be reminded by people who loved him seemed somehow appropriate, yet remarkable. "You know how the scribes and others have intellectualized God. He is the subject of study and ponderous theological discussion. So it is now, and so shall it ever be. In this way, men hold him at a distance. It is perhaps more comfortable for them in that way. But the Father will not be put in a scroll nor confined in theological discussion. My Father is much like any other father. He wishes to reproduce himself. That is why men are created in his image. He wishes to look upon his child, his children, and see himself. To see and experience their love for him, love given freely--of their own choice to do so.

"You speak of love as though it were tangible," spoke Urbanus, "as though it were something we could see, feel or touch. Isn't love, as we know it, an unwitting sentimentality? An infatuation?"

"Agh! The soldier has spoken," said Hermas wearily. "My son has become a Roman, Jesus. He speaks of human experience through cold objectivity, as though the issues that sway men were a matter of military precision."

The mood of the soldier shifted from pleasant to irritation. "I have seen love cripple more men than it has ennobled," he quietly replied. "And yes, father, I do enjoy the structure of the military. It plans. It is organized. It gets things done. There is not much quarter for the lack of emotional discipline. My enemy does not ask my permission or inquire as to how I feel about it before he divides my head with his sword. The 'issues that sway men,' as you put it, are best settled by force--the force of a benevolent theocracy." The eyes of the son gazed without blinking at those of his father.

"I have raised an Alexander," said Hermas, looking away into the distance, as if seeking support from something unknown.

This was clearly a subject over which father and son had deep differences. "A theocracy, you say? You speak, I suppose, of the divinity of Caesar?"

"If he were not divine, he would not be Caesar!" Urbanus shot back. "How do you suppose one becomes master of the world? There is no army, no force, no bent of will on earth that can withstand him. He is the most powerful man on earth. How can you not revere him, father?"

"You just said it yourself. He is a man, not a god. I cannot revere such a despotic, poisonous ass!"

"Stop it! Both of you!" from Julia. "I will not have the men I love going at one another. Urbanus, I have never heard you speak to your father in that tone."

"It is because of me," said Jesus evenly. "I think what I represent goes against the things that have meant the most to Urbanus. He is not to be faulted."

"I am not sure I understand. Jesus, how do you mean that you go against the things that mean the most to me? Do you oppose Caesar? Do you oppose the seat of power that provides for you, that keeps you safe from enemies of the state?"

"Urbanus, Urbanus, my son! Your heart is afire with naive idealism," from his father.

"Naive idealism!?" The soldier stood, furious. "And what is this drivel that we hear from this man?" gesturing at Jesus. "Naive, you say? This is not naive," grasping the grip of his sword. "This is not naive," bringing his arm and fist forcibly across the eagle on his chest. "These are real, my father. And may whatever gods there be help the pathetic souls who stand in their way!" The fury in his son's eyes would have melted lead. The moment of tense silence in the room seemed more like an hour, then Urbanus abruptly turned, and strode out the door.

"Urbanus!" cried Julia.

"Let him go," said Hermas.

Jesus quickly stood and followed him outside. In the yard, the sun glinting on his brass and silver helmet, Urbanus turned and pointed at Jesus with his finger, "Stay away from me, Jesus of Nazareth! We may have been friends in childhood, but now we are men. I am an officer of the Roman court and you . . ? You are a . . . I don't know what you are! I care not a fig for the silly stories of your birth! But by Caesar, go against me and I'll witness for myself the day of your death!" He stalked away leaving Jesus alone and hurt, wondering how one who so fervently had sworn his defense could turn away so quickly.

Urbanus! Urbanus, my dear brother. So you have spoken, so shall it be.