“You shall be called Asher,” she murmured into the tiny ear buried in the mass of black curls.
The still-wet infant nestled between Miriam’s breasts as if he wanted to cling to his mother forever. Cousin Talia who had assisted Miriam in the difficult birth strained to hear the softly spoken words to no avail. Now was the time for mother and child.
Aaron glowed with pride as Talia stepped from the birthing room and informed him that he had another son. Aaron lifted the toddler standing at his side, asking him, “Ezra, what shall I name him?”
Talia heard his question and waited a second before giving him the news. “That may have already been decided, Cousin Aaron, though I don’t know Miriam’s choice.”
Aaron’s posture changed. He stiffened and quickly placed Ezra on the ground then turned toward the house. Gently but firmly, Talia stepped into his path. “Aaron, this is time for mother and son. Your time to visit will come.”
Talia sat down on a stool by the door.
Miriam swaddled Asher in the soft piece of cloth she had created from wool carded multiple times to soften it, then spun into the thinnest of yarn before being woven into her child’s birth wrap. Silently, she recalled how she had imagined her newborn to be a baby girl whom she could teach the fine arts of creating nurturing foods, garments to wrap her family in love and provide lessons and ritual to lead them in the ways of their faith. That was not to be this time. Maybe another time.
Asher stirred. Ah, yes, hunger had entered his life.
Aaron had spent Asher’s first moments of life after birth stomping up and down the path that led to the garden Miriam maintained. Onions peaked from the arid earth. Plump green and purple orbs waited to be picked and cooked in olive oil over the fire in the outside oven. The bread dough Miriam had prepared for baking rested in a cool cave awaiting this day to be baked by women of the village when Talia summoned them.
Miriam was a good wife. She had even produced a second son and soon would be able to serve the family again. Now Aaron wanted to meet his second son.
Marching back up the path he approached Talia. She knew the time had come. Stepping aside she allowed Aaron to enter the dimly lit space where Miriam and the baby lay. Miriam looked up smiling and lifted the tiny baby into his father’s waiting arms.
“His name shall be Asher,” Miriam declared. “It is a name of honor in our clan.” The mother had claimed her right to name. Aaron simply nodded as he surveyed the boy. Soon Ezra peered through the doorway, guided by Talia.
“Meet your brother, Ezra,” Aaron invited.
Ezra frowned, a wrinkled look on his young face, turned sharply and stalked away. Aaron quickly returned Asher to Miriam and followed Ezra.
Weary from her day’s labor, Miriam carefully lay the sleeping Asher in a cocoon of woven love she had prepared for him. With her arm resting gently across his tiny body, she slipped into light slumber.
Dreams followed. Troubling dreams.
“It’s a girl!” Talia exclaimed.
“No!” she heard Aaron rebuke Talia, anger rising in his voice.
The tumult in Miriam’s sleep awakened her. Instinctively, her fingers closed gently around Asher.
“It’s okay,” she reassured the slumbering baby. “You are my precious one. Perhaps one day you will have a baby sister. For now we have each other, our family and our clan. Yahweh is good.”
Aaron returned to the path he had walked while awaiting the birth of his second son. This was no stroll. He kicked at pebbles lying in his way, stirring the dust into floating swirls. Why was he feeling so agitated he wondered. He had a second son. No daughter who would require a bride price when she came of age. The baby looked healthy, boasting a head of hair not unlike his own.
Then Aaron realized what the source of his angst was! Miriam had claimed her right—the right to name her son—without so much as seeking his approval of the name. What right might she claim next? Having identified the source of his discomfort, he resolved to reestablish his role as head of the family. His step quickened.
“Abba! Abba!” Ezra pleaded as his short legs could not keep up with Aaron’s pace. Grasping Ezra firmly by the arm, Aaron propelled him along the path, small feet barely touching the ground.
A small cry emerged from the house. Talia heard and responded, “Little Asher is hungry once more.”
At that moment Aaron and Ezra arrived at the house.
“Is there any fresh bread for our meal?” Aaron demanded.
Talia assured him that Miriam had ground grain into flour and kneaded dough ready for baking.
“It will take time to bake,” she explained.
“But my son and I are hungry now,” Aaron demanded.
“There’s a bowl of figs on the table,” Talia offered.
On hearing the conversation, Miriam swaddled Asher in his birth wrap and rose from her bed.
“I shall stoke the fire in the oven. It will soon be hot enough to bake bread.”
“Please, Miriam, care for yourself and tiny Aaron,” Talia begged.
“We shall be secure and I shall be doing what I am called to do,” Miriam softly replied.
She walked gingerly toward the waiting oven where she laid some small pieces of dried dung on the smoldering fire. It swiftly burst into flame.
“I’ll tend the baking of the loaves, Talia offered as Asher murmured again for attention.
“Thank you, Cousin. That will be so helpful.”
Miriam’s lips brushed Asher’s forehead as she spoke.
Aaron resigned himself to an outdoor table, ready for the freshly bakedbread to emerge from the oven. The aroma danced in his nostrils. Too impatient to wait, he grabbed the loaf to break it. Too hot, it fell to the table.
“Perhaps as the mother of a second son, Miriam might have the first offering of her bread as she has offered of her breast,” Talia risked suggesting.
“Here! Take this to her,” Aaron replied as he cut a generous piece from the cooling loaf and handed it to Talia.
Then one each for himself and Ezra.
Eight days later, a ritual wrapped in ceremony and delicious food gathered the clan. Asher had been circumcised. His Hebrew heritage was established. Gifts of food and wine graced the space next to their home.
Other gifts appeared. Young cousin Levi offered a small coin which Miriam secretly tucked into her gown. In spite of his ritual wound, baby Asher lived up to his name. He was happy. He basked in the attention offered through smiles and pats on his mass of curls. He was a beautiful child!
Only Ezra failed to enter into the festive fun. He tried—in his own way—to attract attention. He rolled into the path of passing adults and children. He refused to answer questions directed to him, especially those about his new brother. He returned smiles with scowls. He hid where he could not be seen. Ezra felt displaced.
Daily family life resumed. Aaron’s success in the fields and olive groves flourished. Miriam ground the grains, preserved vegetables, carded, spun, wove and sewed the wool.
One morning as she knelt on the hardened soil, her strong right hand clutched the stone grinding the grain in the bowl used for generations of her family. The mortar and pestle seemed to be synonymous with her life. Miriam felt her teeth grinding, too. A grinding life is what she lived. Not by choice but by marriage. Yes, she had married well to a man chosen and approved by her clan, one whose future had promised success. Grain to grind, wool to card, thread to spin, fabric to weave, clothes to sew. Even wine to drink. And two sons to rear. As years sped by, both sons were growing toward manhood. Each in his own way.
Ezra followed his father’s demands and instructions as best he could. His desire for approval was robust. He corrected Asher when his younger brother strayed from the path Aaron cut for his sons.
Miriam had become reconciled to the reality of being the only woman on their land. Occasional visits with other women of the clan brought joy. Daily she continued with her tasks, sometimes with grinding teeth. She often uttered words of the psalms learned in her youth. “I will bless the Lord at all times, his praise shall ever be in my mouth.” (Psalm 34:1)
Through the years she craved another person to love to cherish, to help grow into the person God had created. Asher became that person. Miriam became the prodigal mother as she lavished him with attention and favors he found from no other person.
How she had longed for a daughter. Someone with whom she could share her feelings—waves of tenderness, hope, even frustration. She recalled the moments of hope when she had felt new life spring within her. Perhaps this child would be a little girl, someone with whom to share life’s stories, to cuddle and croon psalms into her ear. And yes, someone to whom she might teach the skills needed for a family to survive.
But, no, each time her hopes flowed from her body in a bloody mass of lifelessness. Along with it vanished her hope for a healthy child, that girl she longed to bring to life. With each loss she was ostracized from the community for a time because the blood issue deemed her unclean.
Now it was too late in life for the hope of another child to rise again. Still she proclaimed to God, to the grinding stone and to the silence around her, “I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made.” (Psalm 139:14) Words of the psalms comforted her in her despair.
As the years passed, it became obvious that Asher was quite different from his older brother, Ezra. In spite of his mother’s tutelage, he was impetuous and obstinate. He was a fearless risk-taker who climbed the highest trees and jumped down from unsafe perches suffering minor injuries from lack of self-egard. While he wasn’t exactly lazy, he never fully put his heart into anything asked of him. Restless and easily distracted, he was unable to sit for instruction. He defied his mother’s loving efforts to teach him the ways of the Jewish religion and generally resisted guidance from women. He disdained the honor culture into which he had been born and seemed to take pride in his disobedience.
Noting Asher’s need for recognition, Miriam nurtured as best she could. She continued to teach him the tenants of their faith as she had his brother. She offered words of encouragement, even praise for small tasks done well. Yet Miriam questioned her efforts as Asher grew older. Had her nurturing attention thwarted his development? “What have I done?” she spoke to herself through tears swelling in her eyes.
Though he was two years younger and smaller than his older brother, Asher competed fiercely with him in games, races, and wrestling matches. Losing infuriated him and he often acted out his frustrations inappropriately. Over time, these fraternal competitions became more physical, and his resentment toward his brother grew like a well- fertilized noxious weed.
“Happiness has left you, maybe,” his mother offered.
Asher answered with an impish gleam in his eye, “Ima, have you seen it anywhere in these vineyards or fields?”
Softly she spoke to him, “I saw it when you were born, and I see it daily in our family. We eat together as a result of our own labors; babies continue to be born to our clan which is thriving. God blesses us with grapes, growing herds and health. Your Abi Mori is known far and wide as Aaron ha Yain, Aaron the Winemaker. We live well, yes, but all of this did not come easily. It took all of us to gain it, and it cost some of our clan their lives.”
“I am sorry that I am not Ezra. That would please you, wouldn’t it?”he countered.
“I have never wanted that,” she said wearily, “but I have hoped that you might come to see your avodah, your work, as a necessary part of life, and a way to serve Yahweh,”
“And if I don’t,” he said defiantly, “what will happen then?”
Then Miriam said, her voice belying her sadness, “I am she who cannot see the flaws in your character, but others will, and will cast you out into the darkness.”
Aaron guided Ezra’s life with firmness. Ezra would be his father’s successor. Asher was simply a puzzle to Aaron. How could his second son be so different from him and his elder son? Aaron’s disappointment in Asher showed by his distancing from his younger son, except when an unpleasant task arose; then he summoned Asher.
Ezra exercised his authority as older brother over Asher in a mean-spirited and punitive way, giving him the most degrading and undesirable jobs on the farm.
The work cultivated more than the desired crops. Resentment grew. Tending the vines and the animals was servant’s work. Whenever their father showed either of them individual attention, their feelings of jealousy for each other surfaced. When they reached the ages of fourteen and sixteen respectively, they could barely contain their hostility toward one another. When his brother channeled the malevolent spirit of Cain, Asher found himself unwillingly cast in the role of Abel.
Asher addressed his father, “Shalom alecheim, Abba sheli. May I speak with you?”
Aaron turned to his younger son.
“Is this the only life you ever wanted?” the boy queried.
Aaron looked straight at Asher and asked a question of his own, “Is this your way of insulting me and what I have done with my life?”
At this exchange Asher blurted out, “Didn’t you ever want to have fun or see the sights beyond our land and village?”
Aaron could barely contain his disappointment about his son’s thinking.
Then he replied, “Not that you are capable of understanding this, but I was always working hard, trying to overcome threats to our survival in this life to have such foolish thoughts.”
After that, they parted.
Asher was fascinated by the stories recounted by his 19-year-old cousin, Levi, who had frequently traveled to Ashkelon with his own father to sell the grain, tools and wine produced by the village.
Ashkelon was a seaport where all the cultures and people of the Mediterranean mixed with Israelites from the interior of the country. You could buy almost anything there including every earthly pleasure imaginable. Levi’s stories about city living were diametrically opposite to life in a small town. So, to Asher, the thought of being stuck on the farm, where he would forever be assigned back-breaking work by a brother whom he had come to detest, was unbearable. The thought of being a slave to grapes, plants and sheep stifled his ego.
Sensing Asher’s clear desire to see city life for himself, Levi extended an open invitation to accompany him on a trip that he was to make without his father who had recently succumbed to an illness.
After his confrontation with Aaron, Asher caught up with his cousin, Levi, behind his uncle’s house, “Dod---Levi, where have you been?”
Smiling, Levi told him that he had just come back from Jaffa far away to the south.
“What did you see there?” Asher asked excitedly.
“Well, I didn’t see any cedars from Lebanon or the Prophet Jonah
returning from Tarshish,” Levi teased.
“What did you see?” Asher begged.
“I saw winding alley after winding alley where there was barely enough room for two asses to pass,” Levi answered. “For a town named ‘beautiful,’” he continued while grinning, “they have a lot of cleaning up to do. You would think that one of Noah’s sons would have designed better streets. I guess that he could have been too exhausted after his voyage on the ark to do so.”
Then seeing his cousin’s despondency, he told him, “The exciting things are in the seaport where the ships are being unloaded. Exotic animals and cargos abound. Negotiations are conducted right on the docks with lots of shouting and swearing. And the women there are something else!”
Asher’s eyes were wide with anticipation and envy. He wanted Levi to continue but the evening had grown late.
“Akhi Asher,” his brother called to him.
“What do you want?” Asher asked disparagingly.
Ezra was direct, “I want to know if you remember the commandment to honor your father and mother and whether you know that you have a duty to me as the eldest and to the rest of our clan? Is there any honor remaining in you at all?”
“Why do you care what I believe or what I do?” Asher retorted.
“Have you forgotten that you live in a house you did not build and eat food you did not prepare?” Ezra asked as he grew angrier. Asher turned away, putting distance between him and his brother before emotions could penetrate the thin veil of civility that kept them from doing grievous harm to one another.
Soon after that exchange the older brother struck Asher across the face when he refused to comply with an order. A fight ensued. Asher lost the brutal clash, his face covered in blood. Angry and out of control, he sought his father.
When he found him, he passionately expressed his hatred for his brother and the life he was forced to endure. Propelled by emotions, Asher demanded his share of the inheritance his father had accrued. His brother stood a distance away, arms crossed, displaying a victorious grin. Both sons were surprised with their father, noting Asher’s misery and his brother’s complicity in it, agreed to grant Asher his request.
Miriam, returning from the garden, saw the bloodied face of Asher, observed the smug look of Ezra, then heard Aaron set their son free to venture into the unknown world. Later in the dark of night she slipped into Asher’s sleeping space and slid the small coin Levi had given him on the day of his circumcision into his belongings that were gathered for travel.
Avoiding farewells, Asher and Levi left the village early the next morning leading pack animals loaded with trade goods. They talked non-stop as they made their way along the commercial road crowded with other travelers. The Law of Moses and other constraints of their faith loosened their hold on the young men with each step as they made their way toward the seaport. The trek took seven long days.
Arriving at their destination they quickly located buyers for their trade goods. Grain was in great demand at that time and Levi obtained a good price for it after spirited negotiations. When they had sold all the contents of Levi’s caravan, the young men stabled their animals and began to explore the city. Mouth agape, Asher’s eyes jumped from the people milling about to the brazen women who call to them from stalls and alleys in the marketplace.
Finding a place to eat, they abandoned kosher rules and tried all manner of foods. The spices in the prepared dishes demanded taking advantage of copious amounts of wine to be consumed to quench the fires kindled on their lips and tongues. Throughout the evening of drinking and talking with strangers, they acquired many new friends. Asher paid all the expenses for their merry making. Taking advantage of his inexperience and newly acquired wealth his retinue expanded as the evening wore on.
It was close to midnight when they came upon the Hall of Bacchus located in the city quarter where the sea people gathered. The revelers drank more wine than Levi and Asher thought possible.
At the height of their imbibing, these people began to disrobe and enjoy each other carnally, Levi had apparently witnessed such activities on a previous visit and displayed only passing interest while Asher was shocked and fascinated at the same time.
On their second and last night together, Levi introduced Asher to the chariot races and the betting booths at the edge of the racecourse. He placed his very first bet on a large Egyptian stallion pulling a light, ornately decorated cart, then eagerly awaited the race. Asher doubled his money while the naked statue of the god Helios stood over him sporting a disinterested look. The possibilities generated by these two nights were not lost on Asher. He decided in that very moment to stay in the city and enjoy all it had to offer.
Miriam wrapped her sorrow in the folds of her hand-woven robe as she mourned, “He’s gone! Gone without a word of farewell! Could I have stopped him had I tried? Of course I could not do that. That’s a father’s role. A father who did not even attempt to stop our son from leaving!
“Oh, Yahweh, I have tried from his birth, a difficult birth as he came into the world backwards. I’ve tried to fulfill my role to teach our Asher his role in our family as a valued second son, as a younger brother, as one who serves his clan, who honors his family, who gives from his heart! Have I failed my younger son? Have I given too much? Have I asked too little of him? God, have mercy on me. God, have mercy on Asher whom I may never see again!”
Ezra gloated in his brother’s absence yet questioned his opinion from his narcissistic den of self. His creative mind wove an unkind scenario condemning his brother:
You say
He’s gone for good this time.
I say
May the whores take him
Though they deserve better.
But
I know he’ll come back;
You can count on that.
I’ll stay here and work the farm yourself too
and you will pose at the end of rows
and wait for the prodigal’s return.
You’ll treat yourself to questions
about what you did wrong with the boy
and take me dutifully for granted.
Fidelity never gets your attention
The way infidelity does.
Infidelity says something
about you
that will make your guilt
run out to the fence for forgiveness
and wait for him to come back
grateful for your gift of calf.
I stay here and work
and give you about as much notice
as you give me. We both know
the fuss you’ll celebrate
with robe and ring.
I’ll give you
the look that says
I know who owns the boy now
the way you’ll never own me.
[Murray Bodo, “The Fatted Calf,” The Earth Moves at Midnight]
With Asher gone, Miriam silently grieved the loss of a son she cherished and the loss of the aughter who had never been.
Then she did the unthinkable: she railed at God in inconsolable anger.
“Why have you done this to me?” Instead of feared bolts of lightning or thunderous rebuke, a beloved psalm soothed her rapidly beating heart. “Be still and know that I am God.” (Psalm 46)
Miriam bowed her head in thanks for God’s mercy. Years of faith reminded her that God was guiding all she could neither see nor understand in her desperation.
Months passed. Miriam pondered the family changes she observed. Though still successful in business and clan affairs, Aaron mourned. She sensed that he felt remorse that he had not better understood the differences between his sons. He had not honored the person Asher was created by God to be. Instead, he attempted to forge him into a re-creation of himself as Ezra was becoming. Weeks after Asher had fled their home, she had heard Aaron moan to the ripening wheat in the field as she walked behind him “What have I done?” Miriam could not console her husband either in the field or in their bed.
Even Ezra confessed to his mother his role in his brother’s departure,
“Ima, I could have treated Asher like a brother, not as my servant,” he reasoned.
He was now required to perform the tasks he had assigned to the younger Asher: mucking stalls, emptying slop pots, rounding up straying livestock. In many ways his brother’s departure had robbed Ezra of his elite status as the Elder Son.
They were a family each grieving in their own way the loss, either by absence or death, they did not know which, of one of their own.
Another loss caused grief to Miriam. She saw it revealed in the smooth surface of the small pond where she dashed Aaron and Ezra’s clothes on the washing stone. Her face in the still water bore ripples even before the fabric she was washing created waves in the water. Waves of skin wrinkled her face. Age was a reality. Hard work and the arid air carved deeply into her skin.
How did Aaron see her? Did she care? How did she see herself?
Ah, yes, she saw herself as Ima, Mother! For one son the role as potter had been taken from her soon after his birth. Aaron was Ezra’s potter. Always had been. He would always mold him to his dired shape.
But there had been Asher, often belligerent, yet a loving son in his own way, snatched away by the tides of independence. Miriam had a choice: cling to the past or let it go. The choice was not for Asher but for herself.
Aaron lived and relived their family history in his churning mind. What had he done? “All I ever wanted was for my family to be happy, but now that’s impossible. Asher has run from us. He had become a wild child. One day he was giving us fits. The next, he was gone in the quiet of the dawn.
“I hadn’t worried about him as a young boy. If anything, I worried about my older son. He is more like Miriam. He obeyed every order and accepted everything he was told to do. Even as a teen, he was never out of line. That’s what worried me. Sometimes I wondered who he really was.
“I had been a rebel like Asher.
“Miriam and I never talked about that around our sons for fear of giving them ideas. But Asher never needed to hear it from anybody. Rebellion was in his blood.
“If Ezra had run away, I would have been shocked because it would have meant he had a will of his own. But Asher? Well, I wasn’t totally surprised.
“Since he is gone, I am distraught. I blame myself. Not that I’ve been a bad father. But in the quiet of my heart, I knew Asher was like me when I was growing up. I, too, had been a rebel. I, too, had run away.
Time plodded on. No word from or about Asher. Miriam and Aaron feared the worst. Both prayed fervently for his return.
“I pray for forgiveness, for somehow making Asher this way. The sins of the father, my sins, are now being visited upon my son. I pray for mercy,” Aaron mourned.
Then one morning, as we were finishing our morning meal, Miriam spotted someone struggling up the path.
“Aaron…..” she said to me, her voice trembling.
I looked out. At first, I wasn’t sure who it was. An emaciated young man in ragged clothes approached. He was barefoot. He walked with a slight limp.
But as he drew near, I knew him!
“It’s Asher!” I exclaimed.
“Asher!” Miriam cried, “Asher!”
Ezra sat staring, saying nothing, looking annoyed.
I rose to run, to greet my son, to welcome him home. Before I could reach him, he dropped to his knees.
“I’m so sorry,” he murmured, looking up with tear-filled eyes.
As I embraced him, he collapsed, falling from my arms. He crumpled to the ground unable to rise.
What could I do? I knelt transfixed by the sight of my helpless son.
“I’m sorry, too, my son,” I sobbed toward his still form.
Miriam took a few faltering steps toward Asher, then stopped. While her heart raced ahead toward her fallen son, her feet halted dutifully behind. But when Aaron remained frozen at the sight of his fallen son, Miriam moved forward and knelt beside Asher. She gently unfolded his arm twisted around his bag of rags. Clutched in his hand she found the coin gifted to him by Levi, a gift of home. She lifted his head to help him breathe. As he opened his eyes, focusing on his mother, he spoke softly, “Ima.”
“Bring water!” Miriam commanded. Both Aaron and Ezra ran to comply. Lovingly Miriam stroked Asher’s dust-crested brow. His eyes slowly opened. More unspoken words reunited mother and son. Healing had begun.
“Carry him into the house,” Miriam directed. “Into our room.” Lifting under knees and arms, the men brought Asher inside.
“We shall plan a feast to celebrate!” Aaron proclaimed.
“Not until Asher is healed enough to celebrate,” Miriam answered.
Authority rebounded in her voice. She had brought him to life. She would bring him back to life.
“Ezra, bring the new tunic I made for you. And a basin of water for washing the grime of the road away. He would probably prefer you do that for him.”
With only a slight frown, Ezra did as his mother bade him.
Healing from malnutrition and debauchery would take time. Time wrapped in prayer and gentle touch and savored with kindness and nourishment would bring healing grace to their family.
At last, Asher was home. Now was the time to rebuild family. Miriam uttered a word of thanks as she returned to her task.
Comentários