The Carpenter's Cross

 It’s story time, folks!

Sit back and enjoy this 15-minute read.

 

A long time ago in Jerusalem, a humble carpenter called Avi woke up to what he thought was going to be a very normal, busy day.

He got to work as soon as possible because he had a lot of work to complete and he wanted to get it all done in the next two days before Shabbath. There was Aryeh’s double bed to be finished before his wedding next week, Mrs. Fishel’s extension to her dining table for her relatives coming to town soon, and little Lemuel’s cradle.

As he began the finishing work on the bed, he thought of his own parents’ bed and how he watched his father make it with great diligence and love after many years of sleeping on the floor. That was his father’s greatest gift to his mother: their bed where she could finally rest a little as the children got older and took on more responsibilities at home. Avi was the youngest and so he had plenty of time to hang around his father watching him lovingly craft the bed. He carefully observed how his father looked so happy and thoughtful working, even as sweat dripped down his brow. He remembered his father’s reply when he had asked him why he was smiling. “Your mother has given me so much in life, including all of you my precious children in this old home of ours. Now finally, I am able to give her something that will give her rest and respite from all her hard labour.” That bed was Avi’s father’s labour of love for his wife, who finally died in her old age, on that same bed. Her dying words were: “I’m so blessed to be your father’s beloved. He laid down his life for me, every day of our marriage and now I can finally go to be wherever he is.”

Now as he finished this bed for Aryeh and his wife, he prayed for them: for their wedding day, for their marital union, for their home to be blessed with children.

He sent word to Aryeh to send some boys to collect it and got started on Mrs. Fishel’s dining table extension. This was a tricky one, because she wanted it permanently attached to the dining table, yet fixed in a way that it could be folded under when not needed. Her guests were arriving from Bethlehem any day now and she had been pestering him to get it done in time. But he didn’t mind her pestering because she was his mother’s old friend. They had lived in Bethlehem together before they moved back here a few decades ago. They had been through a lot together: that’s what his mother would always say, but she never said what exactly.

When Avi’s mother had died, Mrs. Fishel broke down and finally told Avi and his wife their secret from Bethlehem. Mrs. Fishel had a 1 year old baby boy when Avi was about three and while both families were seated eating at the Fishel’s place in Bethlehem, Herod’s soldiers had broken in and killed Mrs. Fishel’s boy right in front of all of them. Avi’s life was spared because he was already three years old and his father had the census papers to prove it. Herod’s soldiers had killed all the boys below two years old in Bethlehem in those 24 hours because some foreign wise men met him and said the Messiah had been born there. Mrs. Fishel recounted in great detail how Avi’s mother had helped her with every small detail: from burying her son, to explaining what had happened to their older children, to cooking all her meals and nursing her back from her unbearable trauma and grief. “Your mother saved my life, my boy. She fed me every day at the very same dining table where my precious son had died. She cooked the best meals possible for both our families together, fed all of our children for months and she nursed me back to life. My family and I owe her everything.”

Today, as Avi worked on that extension table, he prayed for all those little boys who lost their lives that day. Thankfully, he remembers nothing of that incident but his older siblings often spoke of finding that long awaited Messiah so they could see for themselves whether all those deaths was worth it. Who knows where the Messiah is? Some rumours had been floating in town that He’s already here. But then, they had heard the same in Bethlehem 33 years ago. So, who knows?

Soon it was lunch time and Avi went back to the family room to join his wife and little son who wouldn’t eat a single morsel till Abba got home. But today, he wouldn’t linger and chat with them a little while longer. He had to rush back and complete a lot in the next 24 hours after which he had to start wrapping up the week and cleaning up the shop before Shabbath.

He got back to work quickly, working swiftly on the extension table and then took a break just to plan out the design for Little Lemuel’s cradle. Little Lemuel wouldn’t fit in it of course. He was Avi’s childhood friend and his wife was about to be due soon so he had to get the cradle ready. As Avi worked on the design, thinking of the best ideas to make it the most comfortable for the baby and easy to use for the first-time mother, he suddenly remembered a story Lemuel’s mother had told them when they were children.

What was it again? Something about a young couple seeking refuge at their inn as the wife was in labour. How Lemuel’s mother had scurried to set up a place for them in their stable because there really was no room at the inn and even their own bed was occupied by Lemuel’s ailing grandmother. She always cried when she got to the part about emptying the stinky manger and not even having time to wash and dry it, she stuffed it with hay hoping the smell would be covered and the baby wouldn’t mind too much. The kids always found that part particularly disgusting and made no effort to hide it or comfort Lemuel’s mother as she genuinely grieved that she couldn’t do better for that baby. She always did end the story by saying: “He began his life in a stinky manger but he was the only one that got away from Herod’s men. One night without any notice or trace, the young couple had simply vanished with the baby.” How they could have known in advance about Herod’s men coming, no one ever knew. No one ever saw them again, though once Lemuel’s mother said she thought she saw the same woman more than a decade later, roaming around the temple looking distraught, going from shop to shop asking them something. She dismissed the idea that it was her though because she had no son with her.

Well, because Avi was working under a severe time crunch, he thought it would ok if he didn’t spend any more time on the design and just got to it. This baby will learn to sleep well just like all the other babies do, he told himself. My cradle is going to be far better than a stinky manger with hay in it.

It was just a few hours before dusk and he had to get the double bed out of his workshop, deliver the dining table extension and make headway on the cradle so that tomorrow, that is, the day before Shabbath, he would only have to finish and deliver the cradle and clean up the shop to mark the closing of the week.

“If I push myself for the next hour, I can get a lot done”, he thought to himself. But then he remembered his son would be upset that he left early after lunch and would return back too tired to spend time with him. So, he cut out the main pieces of wood for the cradle and headed back to his family. They had a long leisurely dinner to make up for lunch and for a brief time, Avi forgot all about his work and worries.

Early, the next morning, Avi woke up startled by a loud, urgent knocking on the door. His heart sank because he recognized the knock. It was the centurion. “Please, please, please Lord, let him want nothing much and go away soon”, he muttered as he rushed to the door.

The centurion walked in and made himself comfortable as he usually did. Avi was sleepy, caught off guard and he really had no patience for this man. But he feared him enough to hide his displeasure.
“How may I serve you, Sir?” he asked as cheerfully as he could.

I need a special cross made urgently: it must be brand new: it’s for royalty! And he laughed loud and long. Avi wondered to himself what in heaven’s name he was laughing about because crucifying anyone is no laughing matter and killing royalty??!! Who was he talking about??!

He offered no details of course, simply that the horizontal beam had to be wider because they would hang a nameplate on it. Have the cross and the name plate ready in an hour. I’ll be back exactly in an hour. Just then Avi’s little son rushed in, “Abba, abba, who’s come? He took one look at the centurion’s spear and said: “Has he come to pierce Adonai, Abba?!”

Eema taught me yesterday: They look on me, whom they have pierced. Zechariah 12:10. When will they pierce Adonai, Abba?”

“Hush! Go back your mother, right now!” Avi said tersely with huge eyes filled with fear. The little boy began weeping and ran back to his mother.

Thankfully, the centurion took no notice and left just as soon as he had come.

Avi shut the door behind the centurion and collapsed to the floor in tears.

“I hate this part of my job, Adonai. I hate making these wretched crosses. And today, he asked me to make one for royalty: some Jesus of Nazareth, King of the Jews, he mentioned. Who He is I don’t know, all I know is you are my King and I want to you to save us. Enough my parents suffered in poverty to bring us up, enough Mrs. Fishel has grieved the loss of her baby boy, enough Lemuel’s mum has cried over stinky mangers and that long lost baby boy. When will you come to deliver us, oh Lord? How much longer can I keep my family safe from the Romans? How much harder must I work to pay their taxes? How many more crosses must I make to partake in these crucifixions before you come, my King? Maranatha, maranatha, maranatha”, he wept.

Suddenly, he heard someone else crying and he looked up to see his young son sitting at his feet and weeping with him. He opened his arms to gather him in and they wept together, father and son, both weeping for the other’s pain.

But not for long. The centurion was coming back in an hour and Avi had a cross and a nameplate to do.

Thankfully, none of this needed any difficult designing or polishing and finishing. Avi sent his son back in and got to work immediately.

As he poured his sweat and tears into making that cross, Avi prayed for the man who was to die on it. He always did that for all the men to be crucified. His father had taught Him that Adonai was slow to anger and rich in mercy. He called out to Adonai again, “Lord, have mercy on Jesus of Nazareth, King of the Jews as the centurion called him. Help him to endure this crucifixion, be with him in his hours of agony, heal his mother’s heart from the sorrow of watching her son die, have mercy, Lord, have mercy.”

Avi delivered the cross on time but he was already late to start his work for the day. Today is the day just before Shabbath, the day of preparation. He had to finish Lemuel’s cradle by noon or he’d have to give them a manger in case the baby came on Shabbath. Oh! He’d never hear the end of that from Lemuel’s mother! He got to work, still shaken up from the stressful morning. He was really looking forward to Shabbath- a day to rest with the Lord and his family.

He began with Lemuel’s cradle in all earnestness. The poor baby yet to be born didn’t have a care in the world. He couldn’t care less about deadlines and preparations and who would die today. Avi thought back to the baby in the manger and the baby for whom so many baby boys died…could they possibly be the same child…the much-awaited Messiah? After all, he was the only one who escaped death from Herod’s men.

Where was the Messiah now and when would his long-awaited salvation come to pass? The more he thought about the Messiah, the more his heart was filled with hope, peace, joy and love. God had promised us a Messiah and He is a promise keeping God. He kept His promised to Abraham, surely, He would keep His promise to send the Messiah to save us. Then suddenly he remembered what his son had said this morning… They look on me, whom they have pierced. Zechariah 12:10.

And he sat back down in wonder. What if? What if? The Messiah will be crucified. Could that possibly be why the centurion called that man the King of the Jews?

His head was reeling, the cradle was almost done and he didn’t even feel the weight of the effort it took. He hurried up to finish the cradle, dropped it off at a very grateful Lemuel’s place and hurried back to clean up for Shabbath. Unlike any other day of preparation, he had finished all his pending tasks and cleaned up the shop before lunch. At lunch, he was unusually quiet, his secret theory swirling around in his head. His wife asked him if he was OK and he replied saying, he would be going to visit a friend in need after lunch. She didn’t ask anymore in front of their son and he locked up the shop and rushed out not knowing exactly where he was going.

The baby in the manger, the baby for whom so many baby boys died, the Messiah his parents prayed for everyday, the rumours about the Messiah being here in town right now, the Messiah being pierced, the cross he had delivered to the centurion for Jesus of Nazareth, the alleged King of the Jews: could this all be the same person? Was he going crazy? What if? Just what if he was right? If it was the same baby born 33 years ago who was going to be crucified today, who would know? His mother. His mother would be there, for sure. And who knows his mother? Lemuel’s mother! Would she recognize the woman she prepared the manger for after 33 years? It was worth a shot! He rushed to Lemuel’s house again where his mother was just preparing to go down for a nap and begged of her to accompany him for old times sake and he would explain on the way. The family trusted him implicitly and so she hurried with him without any further explanations.

He told her everything as they walked to Golgotha, his words and tears came tumbling out as if he was speaking to his own mother. She just listened in wonder and awe and agreed that it was worth a shot even though she couldn’t be sure she would recognize that pregnant young woman if she saw her now 33 years later.

As they reached the site of the crucifixion, Avi and Lemuel’s mother found a handful of women and a young man. All of them were sobbing, bent on their knees, wailing and praying for their beloved being crucified. Lemuel’s mother scanned the women’s faces and to her complete shock, she saw the woman she had seen in labour. She knew it was her because her face was wracked with agony just like she was in childbirth. It was as if a sword was piercing her heart, as they all looked upon their beloved who had been pierced with nails and thorns.

Avi didn’t have to ask Lemuel’s mother whether she found her, because the answer was written all over her face. He turned to look at the woman she was staring at, then together they looked at the man on the cross the women were crying for.  

 They bowed to their knees and worshiped Him as the wise men had done 33 years prior. This was the Messiah, and they worshiped Him, who had been pierced. Avi poured out his heart to Him, offering everything He is to Him so that he might be saved by this Messiah.

Then they heard him say clearly: Father, into thy hands I commit my spirit. And he died there, hanging on the cross.

The cross that Avi had made for Him.

Avi couldn’t see Jesus’ Father but he was sure Father and Son would be holding each other sobbing, just as he had done with his son this morning.

They had no offering to console the women waiting for his body to be brought down, so they quietly made their way home, taking it all in.

The little baby who didn’t mind sleeping in the smelly hay, the little baby who escaped the death that so many other baby boys faced, grew up to be the One everyone was talking about but they never got a chance to see. Not until, this defining moment of His life- on the carpenter’s cross.

Lemuel’s mother began humming a tune and when Avi asked her what it was, she said it was the lullaby she would teach her soon to be born grandchild:

Little Baby Jesus, born in Bethlehem (2)

Little Baby Jesus, born to be

The Saviour of the world for you and me;

Little Baby Jesus, Born in Bethlehem.

 

Little Baby Jesus, born in Bethlehem (2)

Little Baby Jesus, born to die,

To suffer on the cross for you and I;

Little Baby Jesus, born in Bethlehem.

 

Little Baby Jesus, born in a stable bare;

Little Baby Jesus, lying in a manger there;

Little Baby Jesus, King to be,

The master of the earth, the sky and sea;

Little Baby Jesus, born in Bethlehem.

 

Little Baby Jesus, born in Bethlehem (2)

Little Baby Jesus, do come in,

Come right into my heart and save me from sin!

Little Baby Jesus, born in Bethlehem.

 

P.S: 

This story is fictional but Jesus’ birth, life, death and resurrection is real. 

Have a real-ly blessed Advent!