Martha Read Free

walked. Blue cornflowers and scarlet anemones covered the sides of the road and were interspersed with crops in the fields in colorful profusion. When they reached their home, Martha sent Mary to find a clay vase to put them in. The flowers gave their table a festive look. She gave Mary a brief smile, letting her know she was pleased, as she placed the cold noonday meal of leftovers on their table. Mary, tired from the long walk, rubbed her eyes and finally rested on her pallet.
    With a quiet afternoon ahead of her, Martha drew her shawl over her head and walked outside the gate, free at least for one day from household work. She sat on a rock and watched the clouds moving lazily across the sky. The burden of taking her mother’s place weighed on her spirit. If she married, she would take on the additional burden of another family, and then children. She sighed. How long had it been since she had been just a child, playing games with her friends? She rose and walked to her favorite place, the quiet and shady Mount of Olives. She strolled among the gnarled trees, long since stripped of their harvest, and put her hand on one of the trunks. How long had they grown there—long before her father, as long as her family could remember? A peaceful feeling settled over her as she walked in the garden and listened to the lively chatter of the sparrows as they flitted among the branches.
    Her thoughts turned again to Phineas. She had seen him many times in the village but had never had the courage to speak to him. Her father had decided he was a good choice for her, but she didn’t really know him very well. In any case, if they were betrothed, they would come to know each other better. There were some young men in the village she did not wish to marry, and she was glad her father sought a good husband for her.
    Lost in her thoughts, she suddenly realized the sun was fading and the afternoon shadows were growing long. Her short time of solitude was ending, yet, as always, she felt rested as she rose to return home.
    As she neared their home, she saw the blacksmith walking down the road away from the house. He must have stopped by for one of his infrequent visits with her father. For a moment she wondered if his wife was well enough to say the Sabbath prayers. As large as the man was, his size seemed diminished as he slowly walked alone toward his home. She watched him a moment more and then opened the gate to the courtyard of her home.
    Martha helped her family prepare for the time of separation and the end of Sabbath. Her father took Mary’s hand and the four of them looked at the night sky where three stars were bright and visible. It was a reminder that God watched over them and cared about their daily lives. They went back into the house to say the prayers for havdalah.
    Martha listened to the familiar words, but her mind wandered again. Would she be afraid when she became a bride?
    Her father lifted the Kiddush cup the first time and spoke the blessing over the wine.
    When it was time to light the braided havdalah candle, the first act of work on the Sabbath, Martha held her hands close to the flame that represented the light by which she worked with her hands. “Blessed are you, Lord our God, King of the universe, Creator of the light of fire,” she said softly. Her father and brother did the same.
    Ephraim picked up the Kiddush cup again and blessed it. Then he spilled a small amount of the wine on an earthen plate, symbolizing the loss of Sabbath. Each of them drank from their cups of wine. The havdalah candle was finally extinguished as Ephraim dipped it into his wine. They sat in the darkness a moment, and then Mary, in a high, clear voice, began the song of the prophet Elijah and they joined in.
    Tomorrow would be a day of hard work and they would need a good night’s rest. They rose from the table and each wished the other “ Shavua tov ,” a good week ahead, and went to their pallets for