Friday, March 31, 2006

Jesus: Thirty, and Not Married

There is one thing that must have struck the townspeople as singular about him [Jesus]: he was thirty and he was not married. Remember the rarity of virginity among the Jews — not one woman in the Old Testament, among men only the prophet Jeremiah, and he had accepted celibacy for no spiritual reason. There were eccentrics, Essenes and perhaps the sect at Qumran, withdrawn in communities of their own and remaining celibate (again for no profoundly spiritual reason — Josephus says it was because wives "give the handle to domestic quarrels"). Anyhow the carpenter was no eccentric, and he plied his trade in his own town. In Palestine men usually married round twenty. The fathers of marriageable daughters must have weighed him up and found him eligible. Those opinionated cousins of his must have asked him what he thought he was up to, still celibate when he should have been married these ten years. Mary knew why, but it was not her secret to tell.

But this was the only peculiarity (and it was not in his favor). For the rest, the town took him for granted. Even when all Palestine was ringing with his miracles and the power of his utterance, Nazareth would have none of him — they had known him all his life, been to school with him, some of them, had him do their big and small carpentry jobs — plows, doorframes, wooden boxes.

Their reaction to his fame was a "What, him?" — amused smiles perhaps to begin with, such rage when he at last came to speak in their synagogue that they tried to kill him. Imagine your own plumber suddenly turning preacher and miracle-worker after many blameless years of mending leaks in your water pipes. You would not the be the first to believe, I think. Neither was Nazareth. They simply could not take all the high talk about him seriously. They knew him too well. He might fool others, but not Nazareth, never Nazareth. Not one of his apostles, apart from his own cousins, came from his own town...

Let us look steadily at him. He was a carpenter in a town, which even in insignificant Galilee, was despised as insignificant. He was not playing at being a carpenter, as Marie Antoinette and her ladies played at being shepherdesses at Versailles. He was a carpenter; the household depended on what he made; if trade was bad his Mother had to go without. The locals hired him to make and mend in wood. He would name a price and it would be a just price. They would haggle as is the way of the East, beating him down, asking doubtless if he thought they were made of money. In a better mood (having got the price down, perhaps) they might offer him a drink.

And he was omnipotent God, the second Person of the blessed Trinity, by whom all things were made, including the wood of his carpentry, and the drink, and the customer who was arguing with him about the price: including his own human body and human soul — that human soul which had to sustain the wonder of his divine self and not be blinded by it.
To Know Christ Jesus by Frank Sheed

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