[G] Miryam, I do not know if I have the right to ask you of the dreadful incidents at the conclusion of the ministry of Yeshua.
[M] Gabe, dear Gabe, how gentle are your words. Yes, of course we are to speak of that time and the miraculous results. Yeshua was the reason for my existence. He is Moshiach, the answer to the prayers of Jews since well before the time of Isaias.
It was during our holy year 3789, the Invaders would recall it as 781, in the month of Nissan that Lydda, Jacob and I sojourned to Yerushalayim for Pesach. Can you believe that eleven years have since passed?
After two days in camp, I was grateful that Jacob had made arrangements for a comfortable dwelling just outside the western wall. It was so exciting to be among the crowds. We knew that Yeshua was about and he would seek us out.
I was not then aware of the situation. Only later was it told to me that he had been arrested by the Pharisee Guard and taken to the high priest, Yosef Caiaphas, the chief priests and the whole Sanhedrin. The old high priest, Annas, was also present. Some also put blame on the Pharisees. Of this I am not sure, nor is it of concern. The dreadful fact is that my Yeshua was beaten and dragged like a common criminal to appear before Pontius Pilate. He was the Procurator of Judaea and was in Yerushalayim during this Pesach time to keep the massive crowds orderly.
I was also told that Pilate, as a courtesy to the higher authority, sent my son to that Herod Antipatros who happened to be in Yerushalayim for the Holy Days. Yeshua was returned to Pilate who then, in order to calm the complaining priests, to eliminate this potential political upstart, and to keep the Pesach orderly directed that my son be murdered.
The accusers, among other issues, said Yeshua spoke against the payment of taxes, encouraged revolution and claimed to be the new King of the Jews. Such lies.
I am sure that the learned ones at Temple simply could not believe that this Galilean peasant could work miracles and excite so many people, some loudly proclaiming him as Moshiach.
My Yeshua was not just someone from a village of no concern. As we have spoken, because of dear Yosef my son was a skilled craftsman, well versed in the language of the Greeks and the Latin tongue of the Invaders. His travels taught him well the culture and traditions of the Goiim. Yeshua understood the teachings of our faith and, with ease, could match anyone who had spent his life at Temple. All that while he also did earn a living.
That which set him above all others born of woman was the fact that Yeshua, the son of the Master of the Universe, was sent as redeemer and savior to his peoples, all peoples.
It is important to reflect on our obligation to uphold the laws brought down by Moshe. We Jews are not to murder. To kill another in defense of family or tribe or faith is not murder. Slaughter of an animal in sacrifice or for food is with cause. Slaughter of another human out of fear of their words, or disagreement of their culture, or even their religious beliefs is dishonor to Adonai. Only those people who have taken leave of their senses and are so full of hate or are possessed by the evil one would ever murder by reason of religious belief.
What they did to my Yeshua was murder. Woe be to them!
Gabe, I also have to mention that some seven years after he murdered my dear son this Pilate was, by order of Caesar in Rome, sent away to some distant place to die in disgrace.
This next frightening episode is somewhat difficult to discuss. This is the very first time that I have so freely spoken to a visitor.
[G] Miryam please, I am not present here to bring about a sadness. That is not at all fitting.
[M] Oh no, that was just an insight. I am so glad for our conversation. This is so good.
My dear son, now just of the age of 33 years, had been out among the Jews and others telling of the good news for some three years. I am told that people referred to him as the Righteous One. Now I do recall still another thing of interest.
Yeshua had visited me just about three months previous. He seemed then to have heavy things on his mind, not so quick to laugh as in the past, but still so firm in his resolve and with a most peaceful manner. We prayed together as done so often in the past. We spoke of his cousin John, dead now for two years.
And so many fine memories Yeshua and I shared about the past. He spoke of dear Yosef, with admiration and love, appreciation and respect in such detail and kindness that I cried and laughed and we hugged.
Gabe, you and I have shared observations about my dear husband, yet to hear such beautiful words from my son of the man chosen as caregiver for his early years was so joyful. How blessed I was for that lengthy visit. Everything necessary prepared me for what was to come.
I strayed, again.
We knew that those who feared and hated Yeshua had falsely convinced the authorities that my son was dangerous. Is that how they think? A man is dangerous for speaking out against their prideful ways, against their manipulation of the rule and law of our faith traditions?
How often I wondered where was that Ahavat Yisroel, the love for our fellow Jew and protection for one another? Not at this time, not here in Yerushalayim, and I fear will we ever see it again?
Darling Miryam found us. Lydda, Jacob and I, in great haste, took ourselves to that awful place called Golgotha. So many times had we traveled past that site, the place of execution of thieves, zealots or anyone who brought displeasure to the Invaders. Never before had we known one who had been so condemned.
And now my son, spattered with his own blood and beaten, hanging from two tree limbs, a criminal.
Miryam told me of the sign they placed above his head in the language of the Invaders and of the Greeks calling him King of the Jews – such slander, such a lie.
Those pieces of wood on which he was nailed looked somewhat like the Egyptian Ankh, that ancient emblem of life we had seen during our exile. That had been the mission of my son, to bring new life to all peoples.
This slaughtering hill was not crowded that awful day. There were but two other men dying along side dear Yeshua. Those executions, although unlike the murder of my child, had some comparison. They were not important to the Jewish leadership, the Judaeans of Yerushalayim or to the Invaders. They were just two thieves and one possible rebel, my Yeshua.
I was troubled too, by the fact that none of his friends of the last three years who had been as shadows of Yeshua were in attendance at this time of suffering. But perhaps it was wise of the others to seek isolation, possibly fearful of like punishment. It would not be of surprise if the soldiers would put them to the sword, merely for being witness to this murder of my son.
That is not of my concern. In his heart, each friend knows the cause and the method by which they must find ease. But Gabe, the women were there, strong before, throughout the ministry of Yeshua, and equally strong during these dreadful hours. I must say that even long after that day they, along with the men, speak of and teach about the goodness and lessons of their savior, my son the Moshiach.
So grateful was I for the company of Jacob, dear Miryam, Lydda and two other young women who later quietly took leave.
In the final times, I watched as Yeshua spoke to his Father and then such loving assurances to me. Comfort, too, for the women standing beneath. He gave words of care for and direction to Jacob.
As my son died he smiled at me. Gabe, can you believe it, my darling Yeshua smiled!
He was then taken to a fresh place of burial not too distant.
Jewish faith often reflects on that which is termed Tisha b’Av, the saddest day of our history, when the Babylonians destroyed the Temple. If my son, as the new temple of the word of HA-SHEM were to have been torn down, that too might have been called Tisha b’Av.
But this was not to be the end of the destiny of Yeshua. As you are aware, the women visited that burial place just two days later. There were four, Miryam, Lydda and the two who had been there at his death. As had been promised, yet not at that time fully understood, my son had risen!
Lydda hastened to tell of the news to Jacob and me as the others rushed into the city to tell the friends of Yeshua. It was now time for each of them to take responsibility and become leaders of the new tradition. This was their willingly accepted challenge: to spread his message to all people.
This was to have been my last sojourn to the city of that disgraceful act.
We must now finish as it is time to pray and rest a bit. Gabe, there is more to share about the incredible events of this marvelous lifetime.