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  • Frank Thomas Smith
    Someone pulled me back from the doorway. My aunt. Is that starting already? What? That you gape at young men. It s about time that your father found a fiancé
    Message 1 of 1 , Mar 31, 2004
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      Someone pulled me back from the doorway. My aunt.

      Is that starting already?
      That you gape at young men. It's about time that your father found a fiancé
      for you.
      Aunt, who is that boy?
      How do I know? He's not from here.
      From where then?
      Where? From Nazareth, from where nothing good comes. What is it to you?
      What is he doing here, aunt?
      Oh, You bothersome, naughty questioner!
      Tell me.
      His father is a carpenter. He's working over there on the construction. And
      now enough questions. Not another word or I'll tell your father.

      Not another word, but many thoughts. They couldn't be forbidden. The memory
      of that boy embedded itself in me. He wasn't like others. What was special
      about him, that I never forget him?

      The big question, asked a hundred times, later, still today. Who was he that
      no one who met him ever forgot him? You could love him, you could hate him,
      but never overlook him. He was simply THERE, and he was HE. And he was the
      one I loved. What a fountain was this love, born for an instant, then
      streaming on underground, deciding my path. Unbreakable bond.

      My aunt soon forgot about it and she suspected nothing when, a year later, I
      begged her to go with me to the sea feast at kefarnachum. Many went there.
      My aunt lost sight of me. I mixed with the young people. I had only one
      idea: to see that boy again. He wasn't there. But I found out something new.
      In Nazareth there was a carpenter named Joseph who had a son, twelve or
      thirteen years old, who was much talked about. He had agitated a whole
      family, a group of pilgrims and half a town when he got lost. He went with
      his parents to the Passover feast in Yerushalahim and he separated from
      them. They only noticed on the return, almost back in Nazareth, and no one
      knew where he was. They turned back, went all the way again, and in
      Yerushalahim they found him in the synagogue, amongst the rabbis, and he was
      talking with them like a real learned scribe and knew so much that they were
      astounded. He was lavish with quotations from the Torah and gave them new
      meanings. He was extremely clever and sagacious as an old rabbi. The old
      ones liked him, but they also found him uncanny, especially when they found
      out that he belonged to the birth year that King Herod the Great had
      exterminated, that superstitious madman, to whom it was prophesized that a
      new king would be born who would overthrow his throne.
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