“The Garden“
“In returning and rest, shall ye be saved; In quietness and confidence shall be your strength…”
Isaiah 30.15
Joseph guided the family to the grove of olive trees outside the walls of Jerusalem.
Gethsemane was a place of solitude. It provided a peaceful and quiet refuge away from crowds.
Opposite the Eastern Gate, across the brook Kidron, midway up the Mount of Olives, was a favorite of Joseph’s father.
The garden belonged to Eleazar, son of Eliud,
who, like Joseph, was a descendant of Israel’s most famous king: David son of Jesse.
He offered it as a place to stay for distant relatives coming to Jerusalem.
Exiting the Eastern Gate, the gardens visitors descended into the Kidron Valley. Across the broad road, funneling traffic North and South along the valley floor.
From there, a crippled path wormed it’s way up the steep slopes of the Mount of Olives.
After some time they arrived at a fork in the well worn path, a recessed gate to one side, guarding the trail beyond.
From the gate, a trail wound out of sight under the watchful arms of ancient Olive trees. Stooped and gnarled with age, they guided them to a small clearing, an olive press at it’s center.
The obvious ravages of time gave the twisted trees an air of strength; a quiet sense of well-being.
Standing sentry over the hide away where the little party bedded for the night.
Despite the quiet of the evening, sleep remained elusive for Joseph.
The words of Simeon and Anna replayed over and over in his mind. Their message was encouraging; and yet, he felt weary. The unexpected heaviness pressed in upon his soul.
A nagging fear crept into his tangled dreams, cloaking his mind in a curtain of fog his reason couldn’t penetrate.
He reached for Mary and the baby and pulled them close.
Perhaps it was the start of their journey home on the morrow that caused his unease as he drifted into a troubled sleep.
Joseph lurched awake with a start!
Beads of sweat covered his brow and dampened his robe and it clung to his back as a tiny rivlet broke loose and tinkled into the hollow crevice between his shoulder blades.
Startled by the reality of the dream, he wondered why he hadn’t seen the obvious signs of danger before.
The menacing eyes of the Roman soldier bored into his subconscious as an inner voice pierced the safety of the garden sanctum.
“The baby Jesus is in grave danger!”
The voice and message startled him. He gasped as the smothering feeling of imminent danger grappled with his lungs for air …
Memories tumbled through his mind like dried weeds, caught in a desert whirlwind.
The Magi, warned in a dream not to return to Jerusalem; The messages of the angels…:“His name shall be Jesus…;” “…heir to the throne of David…” ”In what city was the child born?”
His mind replayed the Roman soldier’s question.
A cold certainty poured over him as fear gripped his heart in a steel vice.
The soldier’s eyes were empty, devoid of compassion. The thought struck like a thunderbolt!
Herod was seeking to kill the infant! The realization sucked the air from his lungs.
Forcing himself to move, he slipped from his bed roll and fumbled to a kneeling position, the dying embers of the cooking fire cast a dull red glow. A sliver of moon gave the landscape a surreal appearance as Joseph struggled to regain his senses. His throat was dry and parched managing only a strangled croak;
“Yahweh! Help us!”
Mary reached for Jesus and sat up. Cradling the baby in her arms, she turned her gaze to Joseph.
“My husband …. What is troubling you?”
Her eyes showed compassion and her words were full of concern, as she reached to comfort her husband.
The reality of the dream washed over him again reinforcing the momentary feeling of panic. Joseph tried to collect his thoughts.
Grasping the sides of his head in his hands, he shook his head slowly, trying to replace the fear and make sense of his rude awakening.
His gravelly throat again croaked its complaint as he tried to speak.
“I feel as if someone is trying to slay me; and I’m helpless!”
He turned to Mary. The calm warmth in her eyes was reassuring and the wave of fear receded. She spoke with quiet conviction, her voice reassuring.
“Jesus is God’s son. He sent Simeon and Anna to bless us this very day and is with us even now. He will protect us!”
Leaning forward and rolling to her knees, she cradled Jesus in the crook of her arm and reached her free hand towards Joseph. He grasped it between his and felt her calm assurance.
