RACHEL'S DAUGHTERS

Rachel’s Tomb, the resting-place of a revered ancestor, stood just across the road. Anxious as she was to see her mother, Rachel sank down upon a stone bench to rest. The fragrance of lilies and wild roses filled the air and she silently thanked those who had provided such a restful spot for travelers.
For centuries women had tended this place where the mother of Israel’s sons lay buried. Low stone benches invited rest among shrubs and flowers. Women came here to pray for the health of their babies and to petition Jehovah if they thought themselves childless. She thought of her ancestor, Rachel - also married to a Jacob - a shepherd. A rich shepherd, but a shepherd!
What was it like back then before there was a nation; to bear Joseph, ruler of Egyptians and preserver of his brothers? Beloved of Jacob, dying as she gave birth to her second son? Now, her tomb a shrine for the women of Bethlehem?
Reverie was broken for the present-day Rachel as her unborn child chose that moment to roll over and plant both feet on her backbone, head making a hard bulge beneath her hand. Patience, little one, soon you will be free! What had the Rabbi said last Sabbath? That passage from Jeremiah, the prophet, about Rachel weeping for her children. Disobedient Israel, taken captive to Babylon. How careful the people had been since then! Scribes and Pharisees warned them constantly about breaking the laws of Jehovah. Hadn’t done much good, though, now they were subject to Rome.
Rachel stood, thoughts of her mother crowding out speculations about a long-dead ancestor. How ill is she? Why didn’t I know about it? Is it a passing sickness? Rahab’s manner made her feel hollow inside, as though danger lurked just ahead.
The crowd thinned out now and traveling would be easier. She picked up the waterskin and lifted it toward her mouth, then paused as two late travelers came abreast of her. A young man led a donkey with a woman on its back.
“Can you tell me if there is an inn nearby?” the man asked, “My wife is exhausted and we must find shelter quickly.”
“There’s not much room in Bethlehem these days,” she said. Her arm swept outward toward the many encampments. “But, if there is a place to be found, it will be the inn of Eli and Elisabeth. It’s just a short way up the road. They’re good people and will help you if they can.”
“Thank you.” The man turned to his wife. “Mary, do you think you can make it a little further?”
“Yes, Joseph,” she answered, “but only a little. I must lie down.” Her voice was faint and her lips trembled.
Rachel could almost feel the exhaustion reflected in the young woman’s face. She offered the waterskin. “Would you like a drink?” she asked.
“Thank you, yes!” The girl’s hand trembled as she took the container from Rachel. “Ours ran out an hour ago.”
“You are kind!” The young man’s reserve dropped and he smiled at Rachel. “My name is Joseph and this is my wife, Mary. We are from Nazareth, here for the census.”
“Our ancestor, David, must have been fruitful! Bethlehem is filled to overflowing. Even the fields are full!” Rachel walked with the young couple until they reached the street on which her parents lived. Bidding them goodbye, she turned into it. Hope they find a bed at Eli’s. She looks nearer to having a child than I am!