(AN: Horay for this chapter being longer.)

(There's a bit in this chapter about Joshua's nativity, probably the most familiar parts of the story, as well as a hint of me changing who Joanna's married to [I think I'll go back to Joshua and fix that.])

(This chapter was supposed to be longer, but the last part really didn't fit in with what else was going on here, so it's now a whole chapter of its own. The woman at the well makes a cameo, and [some suppose] Joanna's grandfather, for whom Lucas wrote his Gospel and the Book of Acts, is mentioned. It looks like a Greek name, theo- meaning "God" and phileo- meaning "love"; in essence, "God-lover".)

('If it is wrong to follow Christ for loaves and fishes, how much more abominable is it to make of Him and religion a Trojan horse, to gain and enjoy the world? Such people who hold such are heathens [Hamor and Shechem], hypocrites [the Pharisees], devils [Judah of Issachar] and witches [Simeon].' That was paraphrased, more or less, from The Pilgrim's Progress, which is why I have that reference to Judah. Also, it's why I'm a bit miffed at making Christian music: the message may be good, but making music with a good message that people will buy? I don't know)

Simeon and the Shepherds

34 AD

The group that now gathered in the hills outside of Jerusalem was large, yet sorrowful. They had come to bury their friend, one of the Seventy and foremost of the appointed deacons of the Way. Those who were here included the Twelve, the sixty-nine, Nicodemus, Joseph of Arimathea, Gamaliel and those others of the priests who were obedient to the faith of Joshua of Nazareth as the Messiah, and many others of their number. In their midst was the body of Stephen, covered beneath a sheet.

"'Remember now thy Creator,'" Nicodemus said, reading from Solomon's Qoheleth. "'In the days of thy youth, while the evil days come not, nor the years draw nigh, when thou shalt say, "I have no pleasure in them." While the sun, the light, the moon or the stars, be not darkened, nor the clouds return after the rain. In the day when the keepers of the house shall tremble, the strong men bow themselves, the grinders cease for lack of grist, all those who look out of the windows be darkened, and the doors shut in the streets, when the sound of the grinding is low, and he shall rise up at the voice of the bird and all the daughters of music brought low. Also when they shall be afraid of that which is high, and fears shall be in the way, when the almond tree flourishes and the grasshopper becomes a burden and desire failes, because man goes to his long home and the mourners go about in the streets, or ever the silver cord loosened, the golden bowl shattered, or the pitcher broken at the fountain, or the wheel broken at the cistern, then shall the dust return to the earth as it was: and the spirit shall return unto HaShem who gave it.' Amen."

All were silent, and there were no mourners to add to their grief with hysterical cries of mourning. Some wept, but it was true sorrow that broke their hearts. Stephen was one of the youngest and brightest of them, strong in faith and pure of spirit. The Twelve each took a stone and placed it upon his body, for they were poor and had no grandiose sepulchers to use, and the others followed suit. When at last the body of Stephen was nothing more than a pile of stones, they held council here.

"It is no longer safe to return to Jerusalem," Peter said. "I hear that young Pharisee Saul has been raiding places where we've been known to gather."

"Where shall we go?" Simeon asked. "We can't go to the Gentiles."

Peter said nothing, though he shared Simeon's belief. "No, but there are Jews, sons of Israel, scattered abroad throughout the world. Surely we can go among them and preach the Gospel of the Kingdom. Perchance, so far away from Jerusalem, they might be more accepting."

"What should we do, then?" Andrew asked.

"I say we stay," James said. More than a few heads turned to look at John's brother in shock. "There's still much more work to do. There are still many people living here in Jerusalem who need our help, who need to know the Gospel. We cannot abandon them."

"And how helpful will we be," Thomas asked. "If we're dead like Stephen?"

A grim silence fell over them all, as they pondered his words and what James had said. Their Great Commission stood before them, the last command of Joshua, and yet, to remain in Jerusalem was to invite this kind of punishment on them. This was especially considering the rumors they heard about what Saul had done in the few days after Stephen's death.

"We should stay," Philip said. "But not all of us. Only us Twelve should stay, the rest should go their way."

"No!" Nathanael exclaimed. "We are the ones who were Joshua's witnesses."

"That's why we should stay," Andrew added. "Jerusalem will be enduring the worst persecution, and that's where we should be, helping our brothers."

"But we are the Twelve!" Nathanael said.

"'The greatest among you must be your servant,'" Matthew reminisced. Sensing some rebuke was coming, he held up his hands in protest. "Not a prophecy, but something Joshua told us."

"I remember," James Bar-Alphaeus said.

"So we're staying, then," Thaddaeus stated. One by one, nods from the other Twelve affirmed this.

"But what about Miriam?" John said, indicating to Miriam the Elder, who stood behind him. "She's not one of the Twelve, she needs to return to her home."

"Why?" Miriam queried. "If I start speaking from the Ruach HaKodesh about Joshua, I won't be any safer there than in Jerusalem."

"Besides," John said at last. "He...He put her into my charge."

"Who did?" Peter asked.

John became suddenly solemn, looking towards a certain skull-shaped hill some ways distant from the spot where they now stood.

"The Master did," he said at length. "While He was on the cross. He told me that I was to treat her as my mother."

"I remember that," Miriam of Magdala added. "I do too." Joanna confirmed. Salome and Susanna added their confirmation.

"You're torn, brother," James asked. "Between your orders from the Master and our Great Commission?"

Philip, who had not spoken in some time, suddenly raised his hand and joined into the conversation.

"I will do it," he said. "I..." He paused. "I must go to Samaria, that's on the way to Nazareth. I'll take her as far that."

"And then what?" John asked, concern in his voice.

"I will go the rest of the way," Lucas offered. "Nicholas and myself will be returning to Antioch, to share the good news about Joshua the Savior with every one of the sons of Israel there." He turned to John, placing his hand on his shoulder. "We will accompany Miriam to Nazareth. She will be well-cared for, I give you my word."

John nodded, then turned to Miriam and embraced her. Meanwhile, the others began to discuss what they would do next, while Miriam and Philip joined Lucas' group. Several others, also, began, to loiter around their group, hoping to say some last words to Joshua's mother or those in that company.

"May I go with you?" Miriam asked. "The road from Jerusalem to Magdala runs the same as that to Nazareth for many miles."

"As you wish," Lucas nodded.

"And I as well," Barnabas said. "I'm returning to Cyprus by way of Damascus and Caesarea." Lucas nodded.

"Lucas!" another voice called out. Forward walked tall, thin Joanna, who instinctively bowed to Lucas before he reminded her that he did not deserve such worship.

"My mother's father lives in Antioch," she said. "He is known as Theophilus, for his great love of HaShem. He is a good man, I doubt not that he will hear and believe the good news about our LORD. Please, when you return to Antioch, tell him I am well and share the good news with him."

"Better than that," Lucas said. "You shall come with us and tell him the good news from your own mouth."

Joanna's face lit up, but then fell once more.

"What is wrong, child?" Miriam the elder asked.

She shook her head, dismissing this and then joined herself to Lucas' company, with Matthew joining them late on and Thomas Didymus following on behind. This much being done, they went their separate ways: Lucas' party northward, and the rest of the disciples back to Jerusalem. Little did they know that it would be the last time they would ever see many of those present ever again.

Several days passed since Stephen had been buried. News quickly came from Samaria, not but the day after Philip had arrived there. People were being baptized by the droves, just as had happened in Jerusalem. When the Samaritans heard about the Ruach HaKodesh being poured out among the believers, they desired this as well. So Philip sent a messenger to Jerusalem that Peter and John would return and pray with them for the blessing of the spirit.

Thus it was that Peter and John arrived in the town of Sychar in Samaria with great rejoicing. Never before it seemed possible that those of Judah or Galilee would receive such a warm welcome in Samaria, a land they had once ostracized as if it were as bad as a Gentile leper colony. Peter and John saw, as they were coming into the town, Philip with a group of many people behind them. After greeting Philip again, with a brotherly embrace and a kiss, as was the custom, Peter saw a woman standing next to Philip among the crowd.

"I remember you," Peter said. "You spoke with the Master at Jacob's well."

The woman blushed. "Your memory serves you well, sir," she said. "It was seven years ago. Yet I still believe every word that He told me, and the rest of us." She then invited them back to her house, where Philip had been staying with her and her husband. While they were on their way down to the house, Peter and John spoke with the woman concerning how their city fared.

"To be quite honest," she said. "We never expected brother Philip's arrival. Simeon never said anything about it."

"Who?" Peter asked.

"Simeon," she replied. "He is a seer, believed by many to be a prophet of HaShem."

"A prophet?" Philip laughed. "A sorcerer more like."

"A sorcerer?" John asked. "But I thought the Torah forbade sorcery."

"It didn't stop Simeon from convincing any who saw him," the woman said. "That he was for real. Even many elders of our town believed he was a prophet."

"Until we came," Philip added. "He was one of the first to be baptized. Perhaps he has changed his..." At that moment, Philip looked about, as if he had been addressed by a still small voice. Then he turned back to Peter and John. "I must leave you now."

"Leave?" John chuckled. "But we just got here!"

"I am being called away," Philip said.

"Is it the Ruach HaKodesh?" Peter asked.

"I think it is!" Philip answered, with a smile on his face.

"Then go!" Peter urged. "Don't worry about us. What's begun here will continue. May Ha...may God be with you."

"And you as well, Peter!" Philip shouted with ecstasy, then took off south, running as fast as he could. It would be the last time they would ever see Philip.

So at last they came to the woman's house, where they were received warmly and had supper with the woman and her husband. After they had all eaten and were filled, Peter and John led those believers gathered with them in prayer, that the Ruach HaKodesh might be bestowed upon them. While they were praying, a knock sounded at the door. It was opened and while Peter prayed, the sound of a bag of money hitting the floor at his feet was heard. Opening his eyes, he looked up and saw Simeon the sorcerer, with a staff in his hand and his eyes on the bag he had thrown.

"What is this?" Peter asked.

"Money," Simeon replied.

"What is it for?" Peter queried interestedly.

"I want it," Simeon said. "What you have: the Ruach HaKodesh. I want the power to lay my hands on other people and impart this to them. Please! I'll give you money!"

"Damn you and your money!" Peter replied, rising to his feet, and startling those who were praying. All at once, it became clear as to why this sorcerer had done this, why he had accepted the baptism: he was just like Judah.

"How could you think that the gift of HaShem can be purchased with money? Your heart is not right in His sight, therefore you have no part in this gift, neither little nor small!" He pointed his finger down at him. "Repent! Pray to God that these wicked thoughts be forgiven from your heart, for you are in the very gall of bitterness and the bonds of iniquity!"

"Please! Don't let this happen! Please, pray to HaShem! Save me!"

For a moment, Peter's indignation was calmed, and he continued in prayer, telling Simeon to give his money rather to the poor. They had much work to do, Peter and John, before their return to Jerusalem.

When Lucas' group arrived in Nazareth, Miriam learned from Joseph and Judah that James was still in Jerusalem, with the rest of the disciples. They stayed at the house that once belonged to Miriam and Joseph for a while. Of course, the wait did nothing for them, for they soon heard of all that was happening in Jerusalem and how one Pharisee, Saul of Tarsus, was quickly making a name for himself.

"He's on the war-path against any who call upon the name of Joshua of Nazareth," they would say. "Pray to HaShem he won't burn our village down just out of spite."

Yet no harm came to Nazareth, and eventually they began to disperse back to their own lands one by one, until very few remained in the house of Miriam. At last, a day came when they were desirous to depart. Miriam, who felt up to the journey, decided to accompany them as far as Damascus: for she had found in Lucas a good man who believed that Joshua was indeed the Messiah and Son of God. It was good to share with him what she had kept hidden in her heart for now thirty-seven years.

So it was that they found themselves in Damascus, a city as far from what was considered a 'proper Jewish town' as Caesarea was from Jerusalem. Yet there were some here who were sons of Israel, chief among them being Ananias the Elder, a good old man whose faith in the Messiah was no less than his faith in the Torah and in HaShem. At his house they stayed and talked far into the night concerning the good news about Joshua. It seemed that they would talk on until morning came!

Some time after midnight, on the last day of their stay at Damascus, Miriam the Elder was on her way to sleep when both Lucas and Matthew appeared.

"Excuse me, most blessed lady," Lucas said. "But we would hear something other of the nativity of our LORD Joshua."

She smiled, then consented to their request. While they walked quietly down to the living room, Barnabas, who had been pacing the floor for a while, saw them approach.

"Oh, I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't know anyone else was awake at this hour."

"Why should you be?" Thomas asked. "You have a big journey ahead of you, tomorrow: from here to Caesarea, and then from there across the sea to Cyprus." At this, Thomas made a face, as if remembering some great storm upon the sea that put horror into his heart.

"I'll not be returning home," Barnabas said. "Not yet, at least."

"Why not?" Miriam asked.

"I don't know why," he replied. "But something tells me that my place is here."

"Is it the Ruach HaKodesh?" Miriam asked.

"It may be," Barnabas stated. "Though, it makes no sense. I am not being called to preach, or to heal, only...to stay."

"Sometimes," Miriam replied. "We must do as HaShem tells us, even if it goes against our natural senses."

Matthew marked her sincere and earnest expression when she spoke, yet it was not unmixed with silent pain. "I take it you know this from personal experience?"

She nodded, then took a seat with Lucas and Matthew sitting at her feet. She laughed, for she saw in them something she had not seen in a long while: the earnest desire to learn and understand, the same desire that the young Joshua had as He sat at her feet and heard her tell the stories of the patriarchs, even as she had heard it from her mother and father.

"Now, gentlemen," she said. "Where shall we begin?"

"I remembered," Lucas stated. "That you were with your cousin Elisabeth when John the Baptist was born."

She nodded. "After he was born, I returned to Nazareth, to my betrothed."

"How did he take the news?" Matthew asked.

The thought had been gnawing at her for the past several days. How would she break the news to Joseph, her betrothed: that she was now bearing a child and yet was still a virgin. It baffled her mind, just trying to imagine how that could have happened: at the very best, he would think her crazy if she told the truth. Yet she could not hide it for much longer: three months had passed and very soon it would be impossible to hide the fact that she was with child.

She came to his shop, where he was busy with his carpentry. She waited until he saw her standing there and threw aside his tools.

"Miriam," he said with a smile. "I thank HaShem for your safe return. How is Elisabeth?"

He continued on with the stool he was carving, while Miriam told him about the birth of her son.

"Praise be to HaShem indeed," he said, upon hearing of this miraculous occasion. But as he returned to his work, he saw his betrothed with a perplexed look on her face. "What is it? Is there bad news as well?"

Miriam swallowed. "Three months ago," she said. "An angel appeared to me. He told me that Elisabeth was with child."

"Is that why you went to see her?" Joseph asked. She nodded. "Then what is wrong?"

Then at last she said it. "I am with child, Joseph."

He turned around swiftly, with a look on his face as if he had been suddenly struck. Miriam noticed that his hands were shaking ever so slightly: she feared what might come next.

"HaShem save me!" he muttered, a hand passing over his face.

"Joseph, listen..."

"What happened?" he asked, fear rising in his voice. "Were...were you raped?"

Miriam looked a little shocked at the word, but shook her head. "No, the angel of HaShem told me, that I was to bring forth this child."

This didn't seem to make things any easier for Joseph.

"Please, listen to me..." Joseph took a step back, and Miriam guessed what this could mean. "By HaShem's holy name, I am as pure as from my mother's..."

Joseph laughed uneasily. "It's true." she said. "Whether you believe it or not."

"You know what's going to happen?" he asked, turning to face her again. "When word of this gets out. I...I cannot lie to HaShem and claim that it is my own child..."

"But it isn't..."

"Then who's is it?" he asked. "A Roman soldier's?"

"No," she returned. "The angel said that..." She paused, fearing how he might respond, or perhaps out of awe for what this meant. "...that this child will be called the Son of HaShem."

Joseph looked very shocked at this. "Not so loud!" he hissed. "They'll stone you for sure if you say that." He breathed heavily, his hands over his face that was now growing red. Miriam feared what might happen next: she had told him the truth, and now it was his choice what to do with her now. Slowly his breathing became more regular and he turned back to her.

"I'll put you away secretly," he said. "You were a good woman, Miriam: you deserve as much."

Was this more welcomed, or perhaps more frightening, than what she had expected him to do? A secret divorce meant that her family, at least, could be spared for a while the public shame of their daughter being accused of adultery and then stoned to death. It wasn't the worst he could have done: she had heard of some husbands who had thrown their wives out of their houses for less.

"I'll talk to the rabbi tomorrow morning," he said, though his eyes were not upon her as he spoke. She nodded, then went her way. Walking a little ways farther from his shop, she sat down, overwhelmed with emotions, and wept. The future seemed bleak and hopeless, and all because she had done as HaShem desired of her.

~-~|-|O|-|~-~

The morning finally arose across Nazareth. For Miriam Bat-Joachim, it offered little hope. At last, a knock sounded at the door of her home. Her parents opened the door and saw her betrothed, Joseph, standing there, wishing to speak with her. She walked out to meet him, but saw nobody else was with him, not even the rabbi.

"Joshua."

Miriam turned her gaze up to Joseph: it was he who had said those words, yet it seemed so surprising that he should say them.

"Excuse me?" she asked.

"The child," Joseph said. Only then did she notice that his face was much softer than the day before. "That is to be His name, isn't it?"

"How did you..." she began.

"An angel appeared to me," he said, keeping his voice low. "He said that the child inside you is not of man, but of the Ruach HaKodesh." She began to sob, to weep for joy. Joseph wrapped his arms around her shoulders. "Do not weep, Miriam. All will be well."

Matthew fought the urge to speak out during the story, for what he had heard was amazing. Even now he wished that Isaiah could be alive today, to have seen with his own eyes the fulfillment of the word of the LORD as it had happened.

"One thing that baffles me," he finally said. "I-I wish there were a more concrete way to explain this, for those yet in Jerusalem and in Israel who must needs know this truth. I can assume, then, that Joshua was born and raised in Nazareth: how then is He the Son of David, the Messiah, who is to come of the line of David?"

"Joseph told me," Miriam said. "That his father told him that he was descended, father to son, from the family of the kings of Judah. It didn't mean much, until the census was carried out."

"I remembered," Matthew stated. "My father told me about how he had to relocate for that. I'm sure you and your family had to as well?" he asked, turning to Lucas, who nodded silently and then turned to Miriam.

"It was insane!" she commented. "There I was, as big as a cow, and having to travel with Joseph all the way to Bethlehem for this accursed census."

"Did you say Bethlehem?" Matthew and Lucas asked at the same time.

"Joseph claimed to be descended from the line of the kings of Judah," she continued. "Who bore their ancestry to David the King, who was born in Bethlehem."

"'But thou, Bethlehem Ephrathah,'" Matthew quoted. "'Though thou be least among the thousands of Judah, yet out of thee shall He come forth unto Me that is to be ruler in Israel: whose coming has been of old, even from the days of eternity.'"

Lucas said nothing, but turned back to Miriam. "Please, continue."

"Apparently," she said. "A lot of people from Judah were there in Bethlehem that night, because all the inns were filled. One man let us stay in his stable, hardly the place to have a child born. However, that wasn't even the craziest thing about that night..."

Son of God.

It seemed so insane from the very start, and it didn't seem any more credible now. Would not the Great HaShem rather ordain to have His son born in a place of greater honor than a stable, smelling of goats, cattle and sheep? A place befouled and smelling like this did not seem an appropriate place for the Son of the Almighty. Were there many in Israel waiting for the coming of the Messiah? Why, then, was He to come first to these two peasants from Nazareth...and born in Bethlehem of all places?

All of those were utter trifles, compared to what was now before their eyes. Miriam, who knew that her child was not of the flesh but of God, was both awed and humbled: HaShem had indeed favored her, that she might hold in her arms the child who was His Son. Emmanuel indeed.

Yet it was not to be that she would have much peace, after the long night of her painful labors. Weary though she was, and chilled by the cool autumn air, and though she yearned for sleep, it would not happen. For as she laid upon the dry straw in the stable, one hand over the child lying in the manger beside her and her own eyes began to grow heavy, Joseph nudged her awake.

"Someone's coming," he said, taking his staff in hand.

"Peace be with you!" a voice cried out from the darkness. "Tonight is a blessed night!"

"And with you, as well," Joseph returned. He needn't ask them who they were: he could detect the smell even from where he sat in the mouth of the cave, next to Miriam.

"HaShem is indeed good!" another voice added.

"Good sir," the first voice said. "Can you tell us if there is a child here?"

"Lying in a manger!" added a third voice.

"Why do you seek this?" Joseph asked.

"Please," the first one said, stepping forward to reveal himself: a shepherd from the hills. "We mean no harm. We were told to come here, by an angel of HaShem!"

At this, Joseph's guard was let down just a little.

"We were in the hills above," another added. "Taking care of our sheep, when a shining one appeared before us. Gave us quite the start, it did."

"He told us not to be afraid," the second voice continued. "That he had good tidings of great joy for all people."

"'For,' said he," the third shepherd said, stepping forward. "'Unto you is born this day in the city of David a Savior: the Anointed LORD!'"

"And then, oh, you should have seen it!" a fifth announced joyfully. "It seemed as though the sun came down at night, there were so many angels! A thousand upon ten thousand all saying: 'Glory to HaShem in the Highest, and on earth peace and goodwill toward men.'"

"So we came here," the first said. "In search of the child. For the angel gave us a sign to look for Him by: he said that the Messiah would be a baby wrapped in swaddling clothes and lying in a manger." Miriam reached down into the manger, where animals had once eaten, and brought the child up in her arms to the astonishment of all those present. The shepherds, for such they were, if the only token of their trade was their smell, all but worshiped the newborn babe, whose name was Joshua...the Son of God.

"What an incredible story!" Lucas exclaimed. Matthew said nothing: he was too busy running the prophets through in his mind, trying to find a fulfilled prophecy in what he had just heard.

"I have told no one of what happened those days," she replied. "Until now."

"Oh, don't worry," Lucas said. "I believe what you said to be true."

She smiled, then departed for the hour was late and they were, all three of them very weary.

(AN: Barnabas needs to be in Damascus, though John needs to appear there also, to be at Miriam's side [he doesn't do much between Samaria and Patmos, so yeah, he needs to follow her]. I'm going with the 'went to Ephesus' hypothesis, though I think it's rather odd that some say that Miriam died three days or even eleven years after the Ascension. Personally, I think that she was between 12 [the age of bat-mitzphah] and 20 when she bore Joshua, which would make her about forty-nine at the least and fifty-seven at the most at this time.)

(In my roughest of rough drafts of Joshua, which included a full-fledged Nativity story, Joseph was a lot less nicer than some believe. I don't know, maybe that was just projection, but after a while, I felt that 'a just man' wouldn't be like an Aryan a-hole like my own father, so I had to rewrite Joseph, make him a bit more likeable.)

(What do you think so far?)