M
y father,” Jesus had begun. They had just completed the evening meal. Joseph at the head of the table, Mary at the other end. Things that affected the family were always discussed together. Even the youngest was invited to participate. And Rhoda never let such an opportunity pass. She was always ready to talk, ready to be – wanted to be -- involved.
Jesus reclined at his father’s right hand. James, the eldest next to Jesus, reclined to their father’s left. Sarah to James’ left. Sarah. Dear, sweet Sarah. Much like her mother in disposition, humble, self-effacing, quiet; and across from her, Simon, who in addition to carpentry, was the family’s hunter. Next to Simon, Rhoda, and across from her, Judas. Judas admired his brother Jesus, and emulated him in thoughtfulness. To Judas’ left, Milcah the eldest daughter who reclined at Mary’s right and who took charge of everything. The family often fondly wondered about Milcah and her mother as to which was really the “woman of the house.” To Milcah’s left, the boy Joseph.
When Jesus addressed his father, conversation among the family faded. Even Rhoda quieted. All of them knew what was coming. Like their father, they had sensed it for months. Mary swallowed, held her breath and kept silent, tears a heartbeat away.
“My father, I must leave.”
