I see my wife as she was in her youth. She walks with me as far as women are permitted—the Court of Women—to see me off at the temple. She holds a basket, beaming and waving cheerfully. I remember that day so vividly. She is excited from the morning, saying she has good news. No matter how much I ask, she won’t tell me what it is, but her buoyant mood is infectious.
After I enter the Court of Israel, my wife leaves through the Beautiful Gate. As she walks towards the Upper City, where our home is, she greets many familiar faces, returning each greeting with the brightest smile imaginable. People think my wife is kind because of her appearance, but they don’t know the real depth of her charm. I watch her walk contentedly through the Upper City, lined with clean, splendid buildings. Her beautiful hair is hidden beneath her scarf, but to me, even the way it moves makes me fall in love with her all over again. My wife is truly beautiful.
Just when I think she’s heading home, she turns at a fork and goes down towards the Lower City. Unlike the Upper City, where the king, nobles, and wealthy reside, the Lower City is home to the poor. Narrow alleyways wind like a maze between old buildings, and in small open spaces, street vendors set up their stalls. Sometimes, vendors argue over their pitches, and the whole street erupts with noise. My wife leaves the main road and enters a lane that curves down towards the Hinnom Valley, south of Jerusalem. As she moves away from the main road, the sunlight fades and shadows gather. Rubbish litters the alleys, and the air is thick with a musty smell. It’s a wonder that anyone remains healthy in such a place.
On one side of the alley stands an old building with a crumbling wall. Women gather in small groups around the dilapidated mud house. My wife smiles and greets them. Some return her greeting, but others ignore her or look uncomfortable. Accustomed to such reactions, she passes by without a second thought and enters the house. Inside, a young woman lies on a bed, cradling a newborn in her arms.
“Are you feeling better?”
“Yes, it’s more bearable now. I don’t know how to thank you for always coming to look after me.”
“There’s no need to thank me. It’s simply the right thing to do.”
“Still, it must be difficult for you to come all this way...”
My wife smiles gently.
“Honestly, it’s fine. Don’t worry about it. And if you want to thank someone, thank God, not me.”
“Yes...”
She takes out some fresh ingredients and a bit of money from her basket and places them on the kitchen table.
“This should be enough to buy two doves. When your days of purification are over, go straight to the temple to offer them, all right? And I’ve brought some food too. Make sure you eat well—a healthy mother means a healthy baby.”
“Thank you so much.”
“Oh, you’re crying again. There, there. Don’t cry.”
“All right...”
My wife smiles radiantly. Just then, the baby in the woman’s arms gurgles—a pure soul smiling up at her. The baby reaches out tiny fingers towards my wife, and she instinctively extends her own hand, but before they can touch, the young woman flinches and hugs the child tightly.
“The purification period isn’t over yet...”
She holds the child a little awkwardly. A flicker of sadness crosses my wife’s face, but she quickly smiles and stands up.
“Take care and stay healthy. Look after the baby as well.”
“Yes, you take care too, Elizabeth.”
“I will. I’ll be going now.”
My wife steps outside. Before she can take a few steps, she hears women gossiping loudly nearby, making no effort to lower their voices.
“Is that the woman?”
“Yes. I heard she goes around helping poor women who’ve just given birth.”
“Is that really helping? She’s just showing off her wealth... Or maybe she’s plotting something with the children. If something happens to the mother, perhaps she’ll take the child for herself.”
“I heard she’s a priest’s wife. Surely she wouldn’t do that. Maybe, since she can’t have children, she just wants to be close to babies.”
“She’s been married over ten years and still has no child. What sort of sin must she have committed for God to treat her like this?”
“I know, right? It must be God’s curse.”
I know all too well how women who can’t bear children are treated in Israel, where continuing the family line is so important. But this isn’t right. These are just a few cases among the many people my wife helps, yet they exaggerate them as if they’re the whole story. Who are they to spread such unfounded rumours about her?
My wife hesitates for a moment, then carries on, disappearing around the corner. I watch her go, her figure vanishing from sight. I burn with anger at the women’s senseless gossip. What do you know about my wife? Do you have any idea how hard she tries to live righteously before the Lord? By what right do you speak so cruelly about her? I want to rebuke them, to denounce them even more fiercely than she has been slandered, to prove her innocence with all my might. But they can neither see me nor hear my voice.
As I turn the corner, I see Elizabeth sitting with her back against the wall. She can’t bring herself to cry out loud, but through the hands pressed over her mouth, I can hear her stifled, sorrowful sobs escaping.
* * *
“Honey.”
“Wake up.”
Zechariah feels his whole body shaking as he opens his eyes. He sees Elizabeth’s face, her hair now white, smiling warmly at him.
“Honey, get up. You’ve so much to prepare for your first day back at the temple in ages.”
“I know when to get up. Why are you making such a fuss so early?”
Despite Zechariah’s gruffness, Elizabeth just keeps smiling. Time has changed many things. Zechariah still obeys God’s laws and cares for the poor, but his smile has faded. For decades, he has prayed fervently to God for a child, yet his prayers remain unanswered. No matter how faithfully he serves, nothing changes. What hope is left?
“Yes, yes, I’m sure you’d get up on your own, but isn’t it nicer to see my face when you wake up?”
“Tsk. Such nonsense.”
Zechariah is irritable with his wife, though it isn’t how he truly feels.
“Please wash up and come for breakfast.”
Unlike himself, who has grown more rigid with time, his wife has only become gentler. The years have left their marks on her face, but even those lines make her more beautiful.
“I said I’d do it myself.”
He mutters again as he washes his face and hands.
Starting tomorrow, his division of Abijah will serve in the temple. When he arrives today, he will be assigned quarters and sleep at the temple headquarters. At dawn tomorrow, he will perform purification rites, then gather in the priests’ court to draw lots for the incense offering. Incense will be burned morning and afternoon, continuing until the end of his duty period. How long will it be before he sees his wife again? Even after decades of priestly service, he still hasn’t got used to being apart from her. He worries about what she might hear while he is gone. He knows she is stronger than he is, but that doesn’t mean she isn’t hurt by people’s words. She just doesn’t show it.
He watches his wife as she eats breakfast. She looks unusually pale today.
“Why do you look like that?”
“I’m just a bit tired. Maybe I’m coming down with something.”
“That’s why I told you to take it easy with the voluntary work. There are plenty of others who can help. If you get ill from helping others, the treatment costs will be even worse.”
“I’ll be fine after a day or two of rest. Maybe I’ll get better in a few hours now that I don’t have to see your face.”
She laughs at her own joke.
“I enjoy helping others, so it’s good for my health if anything. And I’ve somewhere to go this week.”
“You never listen to your husband. Where are you going?”
“There’s an unmarried mother who’s given birth to a child nearby. Her husband ran away when he found out she was pregnant. It really does seem like the end times—things we couldn’t even imagine before are happening now. Anyway, she doesn’t have any relatives close by, so I should at least help.”
“What? You’re going again after all you’ve heard before? How many times have I told you not to go to houses with newborn babies?”
“It’s not as if I haven’t heard such things before. It doesn’t bother me anymore. And when I see newborn babies, I wonder if God didn’t give us a child because He wanted to use me this way. They’re not my children, but when I see them, it feels as if God is praising me, saying ‘Well done.’”
As she speaks, her face seems to shine, even in her illness. Zechariah couldn’t understand why his elderly wife, who never listened to him and was unwell to boot, could look so beautiful. Honestly, it felt as though he was the one who needed treatment, not her.
“Anyway, don’t go out today. Just rest at home. If you get ill while I’m gone, you won’t have anyone to help you.”
“What do you mean, no one? There’s Mary’s family in Galilee.”
“It would take days for them to get here from the countryside. What if something happens in the meantime?”
“Then we could meet halfway.”
“Again with the nonsense.”
“If only you treated me half as well as you treat others.”
Zechariah’s face turns red.
“I treat others the same way.”
“I don’t think so.”
“I do.”
“All right, let’s say you do.”
He coughs awkwardly, feeling as if he’s lost even when he’s won.
“Ahem... So you’re not going there, right?”
His wife looks him straight in the eye. Facing her honest gaze makes him uneasy.
“Would you really prefer I didn’t go? Do you think that’s what God would want?”
“No... that’s not it, but...”
“See? You agree too.”
“Anyway, don’t go out until you’re better.”
“All right, I understand.”
Zechariah knows that, despite what his wife has said, she will almost certainly go out before she has fully recovered. He can’t help but notice how eager she is to do good for others, yet how easily she can ignore her own husband’s words. As this thought crosses his mind, he recalls something he once heard: that men grow weaker with age, while women only become stronger. Now, looking back, it seems truer than ever. Watching his wife, who refuses to yield even an inch, Zechariah purses his lips in frustration and speaks.
“I’m off now. Make sure to lock the door.”
“Who would bother an old woman like me? Don’t worry and do your work well.”
“Ah, you never give in.”
Zechariah speaks gruffly, still hiding his true feelings. Though he can’t say it aloud, his wife is still the person he loves most in the world.
