she would be called a witch, and so he took the family to live in Troyes. That’s where their son was born. He grew up and became our great rabbi. We still call him the ‘rabbi of Worms’.”
“What makes him so great?”
“His knowledge and wisdom. He can speak five or six languages and knows all about science. And he writes notebooks that explain Scripture and other holy books. He makes words of Torah so clear that even my sister can understand.”
Josef had much to think about as he walked home that day. Apparently he did have a father after all, but his father did not live with them. Who could it be? Why did the man not marry his mother? Mosche had offered to be his father (sort of) and give him another family. Josef would have loved to have a brother like Mosche, to go to school with him every day and to read books with him after school. The two of them together could meet the great rabbi from Troyes when he came to visit and maybe even hear him teach. There was so much to learn, and now that Josef could read simple texts, his desire was growing. He wanted to read and understand every book that was ever written. He wanted to learn from great teachers and have long discussions about books he read. But all this would have to wait. He had to work every day of the week except Sunday.
Only on Saturday afternoons was time set aside for him to meet with Father Albert and learn about Church doctrine. He had already memorized two things, the Our Father and the creed from Nicaea. The old priest had explained them as best he could. The Our Father contained seven petitions, he said, and they had talked about all seven of them. Seven must be an important number because Father Albert had told him he would learn seven beatitudes, and seven gifts of the Holy Spirit, and seven principal virtues. There was also a list of mortal sins he had to memorize. So many lists! Josef wished he could learn Latin right away and start reading, but Father Matthias had said he needed to learn Church doctrine first. Well, at least Father Albert was a kind man, and funny too. Josef enjoyed spending time with him.
One Saturday afternoon in late fall, Josef met Father Albert in the garden by St. Paul’s Church. When it was rainy or cold, they would do their lesson in a small room in the basement of the church. But today the sun was bright and the air was unusually warm, and so they met outdoors. At Father Albert’s request, Josef recited the creed. For this lesson they would talk about Jesus Christ, the only-begotten Son of God.
“What does ‘begotten’ mean?” asked Josef.
“It means he grew in his mother’s womb, like you did.”
“Did Jesus have a father who was married to his mother?”
“Yes, his mother married a good man named Josef. You are privileged to share his name.”
“Did he lie with her?”
“No, Josef did not beget the child. Rather, it was a miracle of the Holy Spirit. Jesus came down from heaven and entered the womb of the Virgin Mary.”
“What’s a virgin?”
“A virgin is a young woman who has never lain with a man.”
“Then who was Jesus’ father?”
“God is his Father.”
“Like God is my father?”
“Not in precisely the same way. But we are all children of God, created in his image.”
Josef was confused. Jesus’ mother was married, and so the man was Jesus’ father. But the man was not Jesus’ father, because Jesus came down from heaven. God was his father, but not in the same way he was everyone else’s father. And all of us were like the image of God. What could it mean? Josef shook his head and looked bewildered.
Father Albert chuckled. “Don’t worry, my son. There are mysteries that even the great doctors of the Church cannot understand. But if you learn something very well and let it sit in your head for a long time, you may come to understand it better.”
There was one question Josef wanted to ask that might have a simple answer. “Is it true that Jesus was a Jew?”
“Why, yes. He was the Messiah who had been promised to the Jews.”
This raised more questions in Josef’s mind. Why had Father Matthi-as told him Jews were Christ-haters? If they were, what made them hate one of their own people, their own Messiah? Why should Christians worship one Jew but be required to stay away from other Jews? Josef thought he’d better not ask any more questions. Father Albert might get annoyed with him, and besides, it was time to go home.
Late that evening, Josef was lying on his mat, thinking about his discussion with Father Albert, when he saw something that disturbed him. While his mother was cleaning and putting away dishes, Joakim, the man who slept in the back room, hovered around her. A couple of times he brushed against her, and once he curled his arm around her hips and put his hand on her belly. She pushed him away, but he got close again and mumbled something to her. Then he grinned and licked his lips before retiring to his room. Josef did not rest well that night.
Chapter 3
What could Josef do to protect his mother? He knew that Joakim had evil intentions toward her and that she would suffer if the man had his way. Speaking to his mother could have no good effect—she was determined to get extra income from renting the room. He would have to speak directly to Joakim, to tell him to leave her alone, and even to threaten him if necessary. Would he listen, or just laugh at threats from a seven-year-old? Josef had grown considerably taller and stronger in the past year, and he was more confident too. Yes, he would have to take a chance, in hopes that Joakim would listen and not get angry. The difficulty now was finding a time to confront the man while his mother was out of earshot.
The opportunity came a few days later, on one of the rare mornings when Josef was not making purchases or deliveries for his mother. She had gone out early to clean a neighbor’s house. Josef was still lying on his mat, half asleep. As sunlight streamed through a small window, he reached into the hiding place he had found under a loose floorboard and pulled out a tiny scroll. Mosche had made the scroll from an unused scrap of parchment given to him by the rabbi—Mosche was always looking for something to write on. He had written out one of the psalms, and now Josef was trying to decipher the tiny letters.
After reading a few lines, he heard shuffling noises from the other room. Joakim must be waking up, he thought. Quickly he put the scroll back in its hiding place and rose from his mat. He pulled on his over-shirt and went to stir the porridge his mother had left in a pot over the fire. Joakim would want his breakfast as soon as he came out. Josef scooped out helpings of oatmeal porridge into bowls and set them on the table. He sat down to wait.
Joakim emerged from his room, looking groggy and disheveled. He came over to the table and began eating. Josef felt a knot in his stomach. He knew if he tried to eat, the food would not go down easily, so he held his spoon and stared at the man sitting across the table from him. Suddenly Joakim stopped eating and eyed him suspiciously.
“Why aren’t you eating, boy?”
“I’m not very hungry.”
Joakim went back to his bowl. When he was nearly finished, Josef summoned every bit of courage he had and said quietly, “Don’t touch my mother.”
Joakim looked up at him. “What?” His mouth hung open, and the sight of porridge on Joakim’s tongue made Josef nauseous. He looked away. “I said, don’t touch my mother.”
“Who
