Two Brothers

"Well, Jesus, will you try once again to steal out in the night without a word to your mother or your family? Has this home of ours become merely a hostelry for you between your visits to God knows where?" Simon’s voice was whispered; the muffled tones of anger and sarcasm were matched by the fire in his eyes.

Jesus closed the outside door behind him, turned and said, "Dear Simon, must you always be angry with me? Are we not brothers?"

"Brothers? Brothers, you ask? Half-brothers at best."

"Is not Joseph father to both of us?"

"He is my father, Jesus, that I am sure of; I am not so sure if is he yours."

Jesus shook his head: and it was his turn to reply angrily, "Do you doubt Joseph’s words that Mary conceived me by a miracle of the Holy Spirit after a visit by the angel Gabriel? If Joseph, whom you call you father but doubt is mine - if Joseph accepted her word and has acknowledge me publicly as his son, why do you still doubt? Perhaps you prefer to believe the vicious story of my being fathered by Panthera, a drunken German mercenary assigned to the local Roman cohort?"

Simon was taken aback by Jesus’ acknowledging the existence of the base stories and cruel gossip about Mary and his first child. Jesus continued in bitter tones, "Oh yes, Simon, I know too well the torment of these words. From the time I could walk and talk and understand, there were always a few loud mouthed brats who would follow me not only with that, but worse, ‘Bastard, son of a bitch; your mother’s a whore’; Panthera, Panthera, Panthera.’"

"And you did nothing to fight back? To defend your mother’s name?"

"I did chase them and the ones I caught - some were too fast for me - I gave such a drubbing they never bothered me again. But, Simon, I was too young then to realize that fighting doesn’t solve all your problems.

"Someday, you will understand that too, and much more, Simon, but not now. All I do now is ask you to accept me as your brother as Joseph accepted me as his son. Is that so hard? Have we not shared the same house, the same meals, the same love for Mary and Joseph? Why must you struggle with me so?"

"Because I don’t understand you, Jesus. You are so - so - different. You hardly ever get angry, you don’t condemn people, and I, for one, have never seen you fight back."

"Never fight back? Have you forgotten the time when you and I were returning home with father from Capernaum and a drunken Roman soldier tried to force Joseph to give up the donkey you were riding on and take it for himself? Did I not defend our aging father and drive off that lout without any hesitation?"

"Yes, yes," Simon admitted grudgingly, almost impatiently, "but that was over twelve years ago when you were eighteen. Since your return here to Nazareth, I have seen others insult and curse you and you - you just walk on. Most men don’t act that way."