Redjeans
The Bohemian
Fri May 22, 2020 10:34
209.171.88.131

Joshua, it's your mother Miriam.

If only your father could see you now.

Your father who art in heaven.

What do I do with you? The Bohemian.

Your hair is getting long and shaggy. You could put more effort into presenting yourself.

I hear you're fraternizing with tax collectors and vagabonds. You're telling people not to keep the Sabbath.

Healing people, you say. Ha. That Therapeutae racket Why couldn't you be a doctor? All those Greek ideas bouncing around your head. What do I know from Greek? I'm a simple Nazareth girl.

Bouncing from job to job--I mean c'mon, one day you're a shepherd, the next day a carpenter. Carpentry--you never even learned the trade. You want to learn a trade you have to apprentice in it. Apprentice to a master.

Your friends tried you on a fishing boat but you were too busy philosophizing. That didn't take.

You're spending time with your crazy cousin John. He's filling your head with all those ideas he picked up in Judaea--Son of Man, Son of God. What John needs is a good bath. He's always carrying around that beat up edition of the Dead Sea papyrus. Those nutty Essenes think their so hoity toity. What do they do all day? No wives, no family. Hiding up there in the hills.

I'm tired Joshua. Maybe you could settle down already? Marry a nice a girl. Give me a grandson.

They say you been spending time in the desert, talking to yourself. The rebbes say you're not right. They say you hear voices commanding you to do things and go places. Don't give other people the wrong ideas Joshua. You don't want to rope innocent people into whatever you're cooking up.

You had a revelation. I get it. Your father had those too. It runs in the family. Personally, I think he was too soft on you. He told you could do anything, be anyone. He was a dreamer, your father. But he had the gift of gab. Always telling stories. You've inherited that gift too. Smart boy.

Joshua, it's time now to put away these childish things. It's time to become an adult. My son, the bohemian.

They say you're drawing all the lost souls to this ramshackle ministry of yours. They kicked you out of the synagogue so you're assembling in the open air now. The world is the house of Hashem all that.

Joshua, come home to your mother.

The last time I saw you, you had changed so much. Big man about town with big ideas. I know the world is unfair but if you shake the olive tree too hard you're liable to get pelted.

This trip you're planning, forget about it. Nothing good will come of it. Those Temple folks are too powerful. They've got a monopoly and they want to keep it that way. They'll take one look at you and that will be it. You'll give yourself away by your Galilean tongue.

My son. If you want to preach maybe you can convince those brothers of yours to help raise funds for a new shul.

I've had a premonition Joshua. Something awful will happen if you journey to Jerusalem. Don't go.

Come home, my son. My son, the bohemian.

Love,
Miriam

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