Mary and Joseph
Talk to Jesus About His Future
by William Kitcher
Much to Mary’s
chagrin, Joseph was sanding a chair in the living
room, getting wood shavings all over the new
carpet, when the door opened and closed, and
Jesus came home.
Mary looked up and squinted. “Is that you,
Jesus? I can’t see you very well because of
my cataracts.”
“Yes, Mother, it is I.”
“So, did you get a job?”
“Mother, I was preaching.”
“About what? You don’t know anything,
you lazy good-for-nothing. It’s time for you
to get a real job. So you’d better get a
haircut and shave that beard off. Do you know
what you look like? Do you know what the Cohens
next door say about you?”
“I don’t care what they say. Izzy Cohen
smells like a bagel factory.”
“Look, your father taught you to be a
carpenter. So you’d better start
carpentering.”
Joseph started to squirm.
Jesus and his mother had had this conversation
before but he persisted. “I have a greater
purpose in life.”
“Oh, hanging out with your friends all the
time. You’re over thirty, for heaven’s
sake, and all you’ve ever done is backpack
around Europe. When your father—”
Joseph stopped his sanding for a moment. “I
told you. I’m not his father.”
Mary yelled, “Don’t start that again!
The Holy Spirit in the middle of the night, my
eye. You were drunk.” She turned her
attention back to her son. “When your father
was your age, he’d been working for twenty
years. He quit prep school to get a job to help
out his family. I don’t know what’s the
matter with you and the younger generation.”
Jesus was exasperated. “They just need to be
led. And I’m the person to lead them.”
“Oh, you great leader you. Leading a flock
of sheep like those twelve boys you’re
always with.”
“They’re my disciples.”
Mary guffawed. “Disciples! Oh, Mister High
and Mighty, aren’t you special. And by the
way, didn’t you know thirteen was unlucky?”
“They’re my friends.”
Mary snorted. “Friends. Bunch of hippies if
you ask me. And I don’t trust that Judas boy.
Iscariot. What kind of a name is that anyway? Is
that Ukrainian?”
Joseph’s patience was wearing thin. “Mary,
Mary, so contrary. Stop crucifying the boy.”
Mary ignored the remark. She was on one of her
usual rolls. “And what about that Simon? Or
Peter, whatever the heck his name is. What’s
his name anyway?”
“His name is Simon, and we call him Peter.”
“Why?”
“No idea.”
“You kids are so flaky. And you’re so
exclusive. What happened to your old friends?
What is wrong with you that you don’t like
Kyle and Todd and Bradley anymore?”
“They just don’t seem to be the
disciple type. Todd the Disciple?”
Joseph was getting tired all of this. “And I’ll
tell you, young man, you have to stop being seen
with just boys. People are talking.”
“Let them talk.”
“Washing their feet. Do you know what that
means to the Pharisees and the Zealots?”
Mary pleaded with Jesus. “At least get some
female friends to be with you some of the time so
you don’t look like a bunch of whoopsies.
What about that very nice Mary Magdalene? She’s
a nice Jewish girl, and comes from a very nice
Jewish family.”
Jesus gazed into space. “I love her very
much.”
“She’s a tramp!” exclaimed Joseph.
Mary turned to her husband. “You! Shut up!”
Joseph was not to be denied. “She’s
given so many boys gonorrhea they call her ‘The
Burning Bush’.”
Mary was livid. “Shut it! The fact that our
boy here likes any girl is a good start. So, why
don’t you settle down, get married, have a
family, make us a bubbie and zaidie?”
“I choose to be a preacher,” Jesus said,
nobly. “I want to promote peace.”
“Peace,” Joseph harrumphed, raising his
fist. “I’ll give you a piece of this.”
“And love. I want to promote love.”
Joseph got up in Jesus’ grill. “Who’s
putting all this nonsense into your head? It’s
those two brothers. James and John, those fairies,
sons of Zebedee Steinberg. Never did like the way
he buttoned up his shirt.”
“I have a special gift. I can create
miracles.”
Joseph considered this. “We do always
seem to have a lot of wine. By the way, where’s
the Perrier?”
“And I have a special talent with loaves and
fishes.”
Joseph wagged his finger. “You steal it, don’t
you? Stealing wine and bread and fish and chips.
The Romans are going to catch up with you and
your gang of light-fingered and light-loafered
friends.”
“We don’t steal. We don’t believe
in ownership.”
“You filthy commie!” exploded Joseph.
“I can create miracles. I walked on
water. Everyone saw me walk on water.”
“It was ice, you dimwit!” said Mary.
“There’s a big difference between water
and ice. You nimrod.”
“I brought Lazarus back from the dead.”
“He was sleeping and you woke him up!
Bringing him back from the dead. Really. Thou
shalt not lie. Do you remember that one?”
“That’s not one of the commandments.”
“Oh really, Mr. Biblical Scholar. Then tell
us what the six commandments are.”
“But I can create
miracles. Let me show you.”
Mary shook her head. “Jesus Hiram Christ, if
this is another one of your party tricks—”
“Mother, I’m going to cure you of your
cataracts.”
“Oh God.”
“Yes, possibly. Father, stand behind Mother.”
Joseph did so as Jesus put his hands on Mary’s
head and began to chant. “Heal the eyes.
Heal the eyes. Heal the eyes.”
Mary was
skeptical. Suddenly, Jesus hit Mary in the
forehead with the palm of his hand, and she fell
back into Joseph’s arms. She was unconscious
for a few moments. Jesus was very pleased with
himself. Finally, Mary woke up and shook her head.
“Can you see better now, Mother? Have your
cataracts gone?”
“No, they haven’t gone! And now I have
a headache! Did you see how your son hit me?!”
“He’s not my son—”
“Shut up! All right, that’s it. You
leave right now and go look for a job. There’s
a new Roman leader in town, a very nice man named
Pontius Pilate. You ask him for a job or I’m
washing my hands of you. And then you come home
right after and pack because we’re going to
Calvary for Easter.”
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