His fingertips lift my chin, his golden brown eyes saturated with compassion. “It’s not possible for my beloved to ever be ritually impure.” Tenderly, he lies us down on the stained lambskin and pulls me close to his chest. “In your arms, I have found what I’ve been seeking,” he murmurs into my tangled curls, “Sacred Unity—Eloha!”
Choosing Destiny
Accompanied by the sweet musk of intimacy, Yeshua and I hurry along the corridor. Closest to the street that it might drain efficiently into the Roman sewers, the betshimush lies within a discreet tiled booth. After relieving myself in the hole for this purpose, I go to the chamam. Yeshua is there. Although ill at ease, I allow him to sponge me in a low copper basin. He even watches as I place a clean soft rag between my thighs securing the menstrual strap tightly about my hips.
“When will you be fertile?”
“In about two Shabbats.”
“And we are to be married in thirteen days. Ima planned this out perfectly."
Turning away, I wind my wet hair atop my head, securing it with ivory hairpins. Miriam enters the chamam and Yeshua greets her with a kiss on the cheek, but when she tucks away my few stray hairs I slump upon her bosom.
“Mary? Ima? What is wrong?”
“Yeshua, it is all right. Please go to the gathering room.”
Miriam waves him off and I give him a tear-soaked smile. With bowed head, he walks slowly away. I grasp her hands, speaking rapidly, almost incoherently.
“Oh Ima Miriam! We woke up covered in my blood and Yeshua was not offended! Then he asked about my fertile time…that is when we will be married. I…”
“You are feeling some fear. That is natural.” I look up at her now, as she continues, “Yours is a challenging destiny that will be filled with love and passion, pain and sorrow. You have consented to a divine match that will pave the way for much more powerful energies to come unto the earth.”
Somewhere in the depths of my soul, I know what she is saying to be true. “Will my fear prevent me from fulfilling my destiny?”
“No dear, fear, like love, is part of being human. The perfect bride for my son.” Smiling, she stops for a moment, squeezing my hand, “Now I must ask you to do one more thing before adjourning to the atrium…” She pauses before saying softly, “Please say goodbye to Teoma.”
Still trembling, I hesitantly enter the gathering room. Both Yeshua and Teoma stand in respect. Dressed in a fine blue robe, sashed smartly with a decorated leather belt, Teoma looks like a soldier, muscular legs encased in high sandals, arms rigid at his side. Yeshua motions for me to sit beside him and gives me a gentle hug.
Teoma’s face bears great sorrow. What is wrong?
With a slight quiver of his jaw, he smiles at me. His hands slowly unclench. “Mary, I hear congratulations are in order.”
From across the low round table, heat rises from his chest and faintly I smell his tantalizing sweat. My heart pounds beneath my breasts as I sigh deeply. What is happening to me? Strangely attracted to Teoma, I twist golden cords girdling my waist, my betrothed stiffening at my side.
“Please, Mary, sit with Teoma and have your breakfast. I need my son to assist me.” Yeshua glances back at us as Miriam leads him away.
Left alone, Teoma’s presence becomes enhanced. The sweet aching hayye surrounding us raises a lump in my throat. He motions toward the food, “Mary, eat. You look like you could use some refreshment.”
He knows. Paralyzed, I cannot breathe. In surrendering to one, am I open to all men now? Or is there something between us that I overlooked in my fervor for Yeshua?
Still watching me intently, his sky blue gaze softens. Our children would have the most beautiful eyes. I am losing myself.
A sob chokes him, “I love Yeshua like a brother, but I never believed he would marry.”
Pain nearly rips my heart asunder. “Perhaps then you might learn to love me like a sister.” My whispered response begs an answer.
Great tears cloud his eyes. “I could never love you as a sister, sweet Mary.” I take his hand and he does not pull away, but gently covers mine with his other. So warm, his hands are much larger than Yeshua’s. Through the clear blue depths of his eyes, I fall into his soul. Flashes of unfamiliar images of us through the ages flow past my mind’s eye. For all eternity, his love protects me, but I shudder to see such prolonged unfulfilled passion, his desire threatening to destroy him.
Saying goodbye will release him, but I cannot let him go. When I stand, Teoma does not move to stop me, so I kiss the top of his bowed head. Running from the room, my senses overloaded by emotion, his essence burns upon my lips.
Outside the doorway, my breath caught in a sob, I bring a trembling hand to my mouth. Hearing footsteps in the corridor, I turn blindly to escape and run directly into Yeshua.
“Mary!” Grasping my arms, he tries to get me to look up at him.
Not wanting to reveal my tears, I press my face into his chest, wiping them away. “Please, Teoma is waiting for you to take his leave.”
“Mary, are you all right?” I only nod, for if I speak again, I will sob. He kisses the crown of my dark curls and enters the gathering room. With bowed head, I wander aimlessly.
A young boy’s voice chants the sacred texts. I look up to see Yeshua’s eleven-year-old brother. Jacob is a beautiful boy, a replica of his father with dark thick hair and eyes a muted shade of indigo.
“Come, I’ll show you to the atrium.” Jacob turns, walking so quickly that I must nearly run to keep up, but the activity lightens my mood somewhat. The enclosed courtyard’s paths are lined with flowers and herbs, their fragrances mingling to produce a hazy feeling in my head like wine.
We enter a pure white tent with large open spaces between the top and the sides enticing the breeze to move freely. In the middle is a bubbling fountain that I kneel by to cool my fevered face. Jacob smiles, “Mary, there is refreshment for you at the table.”
Rising, I brush off the hem of my sadin and see Jacob pointing at a feast. A large basket of fruit overflows onto the white linen tablecloth. Skins filled with yogurt sit between a small pot of honey and another basket filled with bread. My stomach rumbles.Like a gifted Tana, Jacob recites passages from the Torah verbatim. I ask him to sing me the Song of Solomon and his pure young voice sweetens my meal. Thanking him, I find a hammock suspended between the trunks of two olive trees. Jacob joins me and we swing. Soon a hummingbird hovers close looking at each of us in turn. Be joyful, I hear in my head. Jacob takes no notice.
“Mary, how did you know Yeshua was the one?”
“When I looked into his eyes the first time, I could see myself as love.” Nothing is clearer to me than this. In Yeshua’s eyes, I am beloved.
Jacob seems impressed, “That is just what the mirrors of the Essenes teach. There are seven of them.” When I try to stifle a yawn, Jacob takes his leave, chanting the psalms by memory.
Not
