T
he trip back to Bethlehem from Jerusalem was short — about two hours. On the way, Joseph thought once again of work. Concern for generating income nagging at his thoughts almost preempted the wonder of being a father. When they arrived at the home of Hermas ben David, the women discussed the baby and the events in Jerusalem. Joseph and Hermas spoke of other things.
Hermas ben David was a man of some means. He was known up and down the caravan routes as a merchant of oils, fine fabrics and wines. Gold often crossed his hands, silver and fine jewelry. He and Julia had one child, a son eight years old named Urbanus. He wanted to be a soldier when he grew up.
“Stay with me my young friend,” he said to Joseph. “Stay with me until you are established. With your skills, I see no reason why you shouldn’t soon flourish.”
Joseph found it difficult to believe that a stranger, especially one who is half gentile, would make such an offer. It wasn’t that Joseph hated Romans; it was that he had learned what treatment to expect from them. Hermas could see the wary embarrassment in the eyes of his new friend. Being almost ten years his senior, perhaps a firm elder brother approach might be effective.
“I quite insist, Joseph,” he ventured. “You have no choice but to stay with me and Julia. Mary and the baby need Julia’s help at this difficult time.” Joseph had to agree. “Further, I would enjoy assisting you in setting up shop. It’s been a long time since I’ve helped start a business.” He sat back as if the arrangement were concluded. Joseph remained silent. “Joseph,” said Hermas almost pleading, “Let me help you. For the sake of the Lord God, for the sake of that wondrous child, let me help you. Do not be blind to the possibility that God has put me in position to care for you.” Joseph buried his face in his hands and nodded his head. He didn’t know how to express his gratitude.
