[Mark Argent]

I’m Joseph sort-of of David’s line, apparently. We Jews have long memories, so I guess that’s right. We re-tell our stories. That kept things going in Babylon, but, well. My problem is that I’m what they call a “Mamzer”… something happened way back when. Something happened the wrong side of the blanket — people become “Mamzers” as a result, and we’re punished “to the 10th generation”. In theory “outside the congregation” until then, though there’s a fair bit of elastic. The story-telling isn’t perfect… people have long-since forgotten which of my ancestors did what with whom, but they haven’t forgotten which generation is which. I guess they find it handy to have someone to look down on. Still, maybe it’s in the “family tradition” — given David and Bathsheba. Anyway, I’m in the 10th generation, so things will be different for my children.

Our Jewish laws are a funny business. The “Mamzer” lark seems a bit unfair, but people seem to find a way way round it. You’re more “on the edge” rather than “outside” the congregation. A bit non-conformist. The tradition is this law is part of the covenant with God. There’s a lot more compassion in this than in the Roman laws — do what you do and Herod offs you if he feels like it. I had a ding-dong with a Roman soldier about that a while back. He thought we were daft not eating pork and demanded a reason. When I said “There’s no reason. You do just to get closer to God”, he laughed. Crazy that, from someone who’s got more gods than you can shake a stick at, who appear to do zilch. I guess that’s why their laws are so arbitrary.

The business with Mary is a bit complicated.

I’d not got to my mid-twenties and still not found a wife. Who wants to marry a Mamzer? Mary’s father had a problem in the dowry department, so we talked. One thing led to another. I’m not sure we’d done enough for her to get pregnant, but pregnant she got. There was some tittle-tattle in the village. It’s amazing how word gets around. “Mamzers doing as mamzers do”. But it was only tittle-tattle — the rabbis have a theory that a child can take up to a year to come, so someone got upset that it looked as if the baby would come less than a year after the wedding. Imaginative calculations. They got short shrift, but I wasn’t sorry when the herald said people had to go. I’m not sure about the actual census — lots of people didn’t go — but we welcomed the excuse.

In Bethlehem, when the baby came, people were hospitable. They treated it as miraculous. But what new parents don’t think their baby is a miracle? It all happened surprisingly easily. The Inn-keeper let us use the stable — nice and warm, near the animals — and his wife helped rally some of the women to help. Locals came to say “hi” — even some shepherds from the countryside. They needed a carpenter, so it made sense to stick around — especially with Herod repeatedly going in search of carpenters to work on his temple. “An offer you can’t refuse”. Not sure how that relates to God’s law, or what God will make of a temple build by Herod.

We were a bit surprised when the Zoroastrians came. Quite a caravan camped just outside Bethlehem — which helped the Innkeeper’s coffers. One day some of their priests came, absolutely convinced that our baby was something special. Mamzers know about being “special” and it’s not always a good thing. And being “special” when Herod is having an idea is definitely bad. But they came, lit a fire, using flame they’d brought with them, said some prayers — covering their mouths in case they breathed into the flames — and did their thing. They brought a few gifts. We sold the gold, but I forget the other stuff. Zoroastrians do things a bit differently.

They seemed a bit rattled by what they saw, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. A baby’s a baby — even if it’s the one to get out of being a Mamzer after ten generations.

But what I really remember was the chaos that followed. A vivid dream said “go”, so we goed. Herod was still looking for carpenters, so Egypt made a bit more sense, and we left. In the nick of time, as it turns out. We weren’t in a hurry — and I as on foot. We were soon overtaken by people escaping Bethlehem — also heading to Egypt but they were in a hurry and desperate. Herod had had one of his days and soldiers had come killing children. Heaven knows why. I guess that’s the famous “Roman Law”… I’ll give a nod to Sinai as we pass on the way to Egypt, at least our law came with a bit more divinity.

[Author]

Posts