Together Forever

Her long, pointed falcon-like wings no longer whistled; she’d gained enough altitude to reduce the frequency of her flapping and she glided from side-to-side in a generally northern direction with her gray and white tail feathers fanned out for stability. Her life-mate swooped nearby, dutifully fulfilling the will of their Maker and Master in the eternal light of the New Earth. The turtledove cocked her head; New Jerusalem’s central tower and walls were still within view but even with her keen avian eyes she could no longer make out her Master who had sent them off on an important quest from the city’s ramparts.

Mourning doves mate for life, and once joined, these two were never separated. They had moved together beyond life to the afterlife with the slit of the priest’s sacrificial knife. As she flew, she remembered that faithful day…

A well-dressed merchant smiled and looked up from counting coins, “Greetings, young lady. May I be so bold as to say that Yahweh has blessed you with a striking radiance, and I also see He has blessed you with an even more beautiful boy!”

The woman, who cradled a swaddled baby in her arms, blushed and averted her eyes, “Thank you sir. We have come after my days of purification according to the Law of Moses to present our son to the Lord.”

“We?” The merchant scratched his thick black beard and noticed an older gentleman standing behind the young woman to her left. “Ah, of course, you and your…father?”

Her traveling companion stepped up, put an arm around her, and answered, “I am not her father; I am her husband. My name is Joseph, and my wife’s name is Mary.”

The merchant winked and got straight to the point in order to move past any discomfort, “Okay, I see. So will it be a lamb or birds?”

Mary looked down letting her husband negotiate. She knew they couldn’t afford a lamb.

“Two young pigeons if you please,” answered Joseph.

The merchant cleared his throat to attempt an upsell, “But sir, as I told your wife, your child appears perfect in every way. Wouldn’t a better sacrifice be a lamb…to ensure God’s continued blessings?”

Joseph shook his head, “No sir, just the pigeons.”

The merchant ignored him, “Listen, I have many young sheep from which to choose. We have a variety of shades from mottled-white to pure gray to…say, look here…I can give you quite a discount on this pure white, even if older lamb…today only…I’ll let him go for…”

Joseph stood his ground and cut him off, this time with but a single word, “Pigeons.”

The merchant disappointedly relented, “Fine, but everyone’s been going cheap today, and I haven’t got many left. My standard pigeons are all sold out, but I’ve got a nice pair of turtledoves.” He held up a makeshift cage of lashed sticks, and two gray and white speckled birds huddled together at the bottom of the enclosure. The male nervously cooed.

Obviously there wasn’t much choice; Joseph shrugged, “How much?”

The merchant set the birds down on his table, rubbed his neck, and began the arbitration, “One denarius.”

Joseph was stunned. “You want silver? The regular price is half that, at most…two sestertii.”

“It’s simply supply and demand, my friend. I told you I only have a few left, so I cannot possibly let them go for mere copper or bronze,” the merchant haggled. He looked back at the white sheep and added, “Look, if you rub just three silver coins together I’ll sell you the lamb for say…two denarii and a quinarius.”

Joseph looked in his meager belt pouch. His young wife remained silent as he countered, “Three sestertii.”

The merchant wiped a bit of perspiration from his brow and contended, “I already said that I cannot accept copper-brass; anyway, four sestertii is a denarius.”

Mary was becoming uncomfortable with the discussion, and the merchant noticed. Before Joseph could answer, the pitchman changed his approach, “Tell you what, I’ll let you have them for one silver quinarius and one brass sestertius. That way we both can have a little bit of a win. They’re beautiful birds are they not? Deal?”

Joseph yielded and dug through his belt pouch. He presented the merchant his payment and in turn the merchant presented him the birdcage. “Thank you,” the salesman smiled, “May God go with you both.”

Mary thanked him on her husband’s behalf, “Thank you, and may the peace of Yahweh be upon you.”

Joseph carried the birds and Mary held her boy close to her as they crossed the courtyard to the steps of the temple. The doves fluttered anxiously as they walked, so Joseph put his face to the cage and whispered, “The merchant was correct, you truly are handsome creatures. It is you that we should be thanking, not him. So I thank you now for the sacrifice that you soon shall perform.”

Joseph’s gentle voice and kind words calmed the birds, and they were still as statuettes by the time they’d reached the landing at the top of the temple steps.

A stranger approached them from the doorway with his hands outstretched in welcome. The wizened man was dressed in ornate priestly garb, and when he reached for the child in Mary’s arms she gave him over to the man freely.

The priest spoke blessings without even introducing himself, “Lord, now let thou, thy servant, depart in peace, according to thy word: for mine eyes have seen thy salvation, which thou hast prepared before the face of all people; a light to lighten the Gentiles, and the glory of thy people Israel.”

Joseph and Mary marveled at his words, and Mary asked, “Rabbi, what is this light of which you speak?”

The old priest’s face wrinkled even further as he smiled and his eyes were alight with elation when he answered, “I, Simeon, have lived far beyond my days, for the Holy Spirit revealed that I should not see death before I have seen the Lord’s Christ.” Simeon raised the baby into the air and continued, “Behold, this child is set for the fall and rising again of many in Israel and beyond.”

Simeon’s smile had spread to Mary, and her face was flushed with joy as she accepted her child back from the priest. After returning the babe, Simeon pulled out a vial of oil to anoint him, and after that he traded the vial for a small, gilded, ceremonial dagger. He reached out to Joseph and took the makeshift cage from his hand. “I must assume that these creatures are for the traditional sacrifice.”

“Yes Rabbi.” Joseph answered simply but somewhat forlornly. The birds trembled only slightly as the cage traded hands.

Mary turned her head as the priest raised his knife toward the cage. The rabbi’s smile widened and impossibly his wrinkles increased yet again, “Fear not Mary.” He cut the string that held the cage door and released the birds into the air. “This particular ransom ritual is as unique as the subject being blessed. Behold…”

Mary and Joseph watched the pair of turtledoves climb into the air above the temple. Their wings briefly produced a high-pitched whistling sound until they were well on their way, but also, as they arose, their bodies and wings shimmered with light. Mary blinked and the birds were gone. “Where did they go?” she asked Simeon.

“It is beside the point, but consider this: nobody has ever been nor ever will be saved by the blood of animals. These two are now with the Lord’s Christ. They’ve been translated, and soon I too will move beyond my mortal body.”

“But how can they be with the Christ when you just confirmed that the Christ is here with us?” Mary questioned and propped up the child in her arms.

Neither dove heard the aged priest’s answer; they were now serving their Master in another place, a much better place…the promised perfect place.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: Most of this story is a slightly enhanced excerpt from my second book, En Passant, by David Alan Brown. Published on LuLu, and available on Amazon Kindle, Barnes & Noble Nook, Apple iTunes, Google Play, and bookstores everywhere.