The Chosen: I Have Called You By Name (Revised & Expanded): a novel based on Season 1 of the critically acclaimed TV series

PART 1

The Shepherd

When Augustus Caesar became emperor of Rome, Judea was made a Roman province.

For 400 years the prophets of Israel had been silent. Priests read the Scriptures aloud in synagogues while Roman officers patrolled the streets, heavily taxing the Hebrews.

The prophecies whispered of a coming Messiah who would save God’s people.

Chapter 1

OBSESSION

Kedron, Israel

Short but well-muscled, with a cascade of curls bouncing on his forehead, Shimon knows he looks younger than his twenty years. Yet he’ll be responsible for his three younger sisters once he’s bequeathed his father’s land and sheep. Which could happen today if it’s why his parents have summoned him when he should be in the pasture.

His father has been sickly for nearly two years and unable to join him in the fields. Shimon misses his father’s help and mentoring, but he has been forced to learn much. Officials from Kedron had visited his parents the day before. While Shimon wished he had been included, he assumes he will be informed of the details today.

They meet in his parents’ bedchamber, where his father lies. I have failed, the old man begins.

Don’t say that, Shimon says. You have done all you could.

Let him speak, his mother says. He’s trying to apologize.

But he has nothing to apologize for! I know he would be out there with me if not for—

His father raises a hand. We have lost everything. I have nothing to leave you.

But—

Let me speak! his father rasps. I feel terrible, but I have failed you all.

What are you saying?

You need not return to the fields. The new owners are already here.

Shimon reels. But the sheep, my sisters, our fut—

It’s my fault, his father says. I’m sorry! There’s no more to say.

Stunned, yet eager to console his father, Shimon wants to thank him for all he has taught him, how he’s fed the boy’s obsession with the Scriptures, the prophecies, the promised Messiah. What will he do now? And what will become of all that study?

You’ll have to leave and find work, his mother says. We’re left with this home but no land, no livestock. And still five mouths to feed.

I’ll do whatever I have to, of course, Shimon says. But where will I go? What should I do?

His father rises onto an elbow. You’ve always wanted to go to Bethlehem. Their herds supply the Jerusalem temple with sacrifices. Sheepherders there must always need help.

Bethlehem! Just more than twenty miles east but named in the prophecies! Shimon can only imagine visiting the synagogue there. But would he ever have time? He’d need to become a hireling if he hoped to keep his parents and sisters alive.

Shimon’s entire future has changed in an instant, yet the prospect of relocating to Bethlehem has already softened the blow.

• • •

One week later

Desperate to keep up, Shimon yanks the tether on a white lamb and forces himself along on the rough-hewn crutch he’s fashioned from a tree branch. Ahead, the three older shepherds he serves—each leading his own lamb toward Bethlehem—pause and turn to needle him. Aaron, ebony skin stark against his white cotton tunic, mimics Shimon’s limp, pretending his own walking stick is a crutch.

C’mon! Yoram, the eldest, shouts, his white-rimmed head gleaming in the relentless sun. Let’s go!

Shimon’s eagerness to prove he cares as much about their sheep as his bosses do had resulted in his injury. He’d led a flock into a limestone cave during a storm, and when one escaped, he chased after it, plunging into a ravine and badly rolling his left ankle. He would have welcomed a little sympathy—or gratitude—but he got only disdain. And no help, save for a gruff suggestion from dark-bearded Natan to wrap it tight. Natan is the only one who even looks at the young man when he speaks.

Shimon hopes to catch the three men when they stop at the well on the way into the city, so he pushes himself. He winces with every stride, sweat pouring from his grimy face.

From a short distance, Shimon sees the other shepherds reaching the well. Five women bearing clay pots and leathern buckets busy themselves there until the shepherds approach. It strikes Shimon that the women make no attempt to hide their aversion, four of them immediately backing away, holding their noses.

Lovely day today, isn’t it? Natan says loudly to one, nodding and smiling, but she covers her face and hurries off. Come back! he calls after her.

By the time Shimon reaches the well, the other shepherds have filled their goatskin water sacs and begin to move on. The only remaining woman leaves as Shimon arrives. He fills his sac and hurries off, trying not to let the others get too far ahead. Passing the sign pointing to Bethlehem, he’s reminded of the Scriptures he so cherishes, his father having raised him to study the Torah. Though Aaron and the others mock his passion, Shimon has memorized lengthy passages, especially about his new home. As he forces himself along, the lamb bleating, Shimon rehearses aloud:

"‘But you, O Bethlehem Ephrathah, who are too little to be among the clans of Judah, from you shall come forth for me one who is to be ruler in Israel, whose coming forth is from of old, from ancient days.’

"Therefore he shall give them up until the time when she who is in labor has given birth; then the rest of his brothers shall return to the people of Israel.

"And he shall stand and shepherd his flock in the strength of the Lord, in the majesty of the name of the Lord his God. And they shall dwell secure, for now he shall be great to the ends of the earth.

And he shall be their peace.

Could it be? The Messiah could come from right here? It seems too much to hope for, and yet Shimon believes the prophets with his whole heart. He imagines the Chosen One defending the Jews and setting things right between them and the Romans.

Chapter 2

A SIGN

On the final stretch of the more than 100 mile walk from Nazareth to Bethlehem, Joseph realizes that his hope that this arduous journey would be some sort of respite from his work was a fantasy. How he would love to be back on the job right now, sweating in the sun because he and his mates were building something—something that would last! But now he smells of another kind of sweat as he leads his powerful but ratty-looking donkey slowly along, his pregnant fiancée delicately balanced on its back. He can’t help believing this compulsory registration and taxation has come at the worst possible time.

Mary is due any day, and he silently prays it is not this very day. What will he do? What can he do in the middle of the desert on this dusty road? Sure, strangers pass from both directions, but who will stop to help a couple whose very garb makes it clear they are Nazarenes? They’d more likely be spit upon than helped in the hour of their greatest need. Fortunately, the last person to have blessed them with a sip of his own water had been a shepherd, nearly as much an outcast as they are.

Joseph is desperate to get to Bethlehem, as much to find a well as to find a place for Mary to rest. She barely complains, but he knows she must be miserable.

There is, he must confess, a bit of relief from all they’ve already endured. His betrothed is the godliest woman he has ever known, even having privately learned to read so she could study the Torah, though only males are allowed in Hebrew school. So when she began to show—long before their wedding had even been scheduled—he was as shocked and disappointed, yes, in her, as anyone in Nazareth. Knowing her as he did, he could in no way make it make sense. And while many naturally blamed him for her predicament, he refused to protect his own reputation by breaking the marriage contract as any offended fiancé would have been justified to do.

But then had come the messenger from heaven, who appeared to him in a dream and assured him the baby Mary carried was the son of God. Filled with wonder and still finding it hard to believe, he traded stories with Mary, only to discover that their heavenly messengers had urged them both to fear not. That, they agreed, was one thing to be told and quite another to practice.

Right now, Joseph is afraid. He assures Mary he will look up Samuel, a distant relative, as soon as they arrive in Bethlehem. He has to confess it’s been a long time since he’s seen him. I don’t know if he’s living in the same home.

I hope so, Mary says. You’ve said so much about him.

Joseph sighs. We will see. We won’t have any time to look for him if he’s moved, of course.

We’ll see, she says, fingering the water sac as if hoping something, anything, will appear in it.

Not even a drop? Joseph says.

She shakes her head.

He sighs as the donkey stalls. Joseph clicks his tongue and jerks the beast on.

Um, Joseph?

Yes.

Can you stop please? I’d like to walk for a bit.

No, Mary! Why would you want to walk? He worries about her and the baby, of course, but mainly he wants to get to Bethlehem—for his own sake as well as hers. She’s strong, he knows. She went to visit her cousin Elizabeth by herself, walking 100 miles uphill the other direction from Nazareth, while three and a half months pregnant! She traversed a route known for bandits and other dangers, then stayed with Elizabeth for three months, returning alone more than six months into her pregnancy.

That temporarily saved her from ridicule in her hometown, ridicule that Joseph was not spared. His coworkers mocked and jeered, and some—painfully—just silently looked upon him with obvious disgust, having considered him a devout Jew. All he could do was rest in the promise of God.

But this trek is different. Mary cannot seem to stifle her cries of discomfort and pain, so Joseph teeters between rushing and slowing. They must find shelter, but he must also be so careful with his beloved and her child. He hopes to discourage her from dismounting the donkey. It’s dangerous.

I’m getting a bit uncomfortable …

How is she able to sound so sweet, so precious, despite her agony?

… Elizabeth actually told me it’s good to walk and move when I feel up to it.

He sighs again, looking into the distance and then behind them. We won’t have any water until I get you to town. You need your rest. He stops the donkey. Let me get you more comfortable, eh? He tucks his walking stick under his arm and tries to straighten the blanket beneath her.

Joseph, she says, you don’t need to be the only one walking. Plus we’re far enough away from Nazareth that I don’t have to hide my condition anymore.

Mary, this blanket is stuck! There is no way that you are comfortable.

Joseph. I’d like to walk with you. Please.

What is he to do? Deep inside he wants to do whatever she wants him to. But he feels the weight of it. I am responsible for you, Mary. For you and … He lays a hand gently on her belly.

You protect us …

Yes!

I’ll let you help me down.

This amuses him, and he points at her. All right, you can walk for a few minutes, huh? But please, not too far! He moves back to the head of the donkey to urge it on. You need to save your strength.

I actually need you to help me down, she says.

Aah, yes, sorry. He heads back and supports her as she reaches for him. Slowly, slowly. Watch the baby.

She whimpers as he lowers her to the ground.

You okay?

Yes, yes. Ooh, this feels better.

Mm, he says, not so sure he should have allowed this but grateful she seems to enjoy it.

Thank you.

He doesn’t know how to respond.

Thank you for protecting me, she adds. I don’t know that I’ve said that yet.

How can she say that? She’s been thanking him for days since they left home. We have a little ways to go yet. Let’s see how the night goes and—

I’m not talking about that. I’m talking about—before.

Oh. Ah …

I’ve been meaning to say something this whole journey. And I just … I didn’t, and I should have.

Again, Joseph doesn’t know what to say. She’s so much better at such conversations. Mm.

I should have months ago.

You don’t have to, he says, eyes straight ahead as they mosey on, she a step behind. Where is she going with this? He very nearly put her away privately before God visited him.

Yes, yes, I do. You could have gotten all the bride price back from my father.

The bride price! It was never about the money.

I know it wasn’t, and I know it’s not polite to talk about. But no one would have blamed you.

For what?

For divorcing me. Publicly.

Mary, I—

You could be betrothed to someone whom you don’t have to hide. And people wouldn’t be gossiping about you. And you could go be registered without having to drag me on this donkey all day for five days.

Now he’s totally at a loss. He would never dream of such a thing, not after …

He feels her hand on his arm. Joseph?

He stops and turns to face her.

You are a brave man, and you are godly. And I should have said thank you.

He stares at her. How he loves this woman! He points to the sky with his stick. God told me to.

I know He did. But you had a choice.

A choice? When God speaks? Ah, ha! I don’t believe that I did. But I’m glad either way. I wouldn’t change a single thing that has happened, since that dream, hm?

She smiles at him. Neither would I.

They walk on again. Oh, this all seems impossible, huh? he says.

Yes, yes. But remember what the messenger said to me?

Hm?

‘Nothing is impossible with God.’

My messenger didn’t say that. That would have been nice, huh?

She sighs and smiles but looks weary. He draws her close. Are you feeling better?

A bit, yes.

Okay. Up, up.

She grunts as she mounts the donkey.

We need to move quicker, Joseph says. You need water, and I planned to get settled for the part where your messenger and my messenger said the same thing. ‘And she will give birth to a son …’

They speak together. ‘And you shall call his name Jesus.’

Yes, he says. That part.

• • •

Children frolic in the crowded Bethlehem marketplace as men loudly haggle. Merchants are buying, filling their pens with animals they will sell to pilgrims for sacrifice at the temple in Jerusalem, fewer than six miles away. Shimon and his superiors have culled only the best from their herds, eager to garner the highest prices.

The merchants cajole shepherds and farmers to cut their prices, while the shepherds and farmers laud the quality of their livestock and produce. Yoram gestures passionately as he wrangles with a merchant near where a child runs his hands through a freshly shorn hide of wool. Aaron bends at a stall to sniff fresh spices. As Shimon gingerly shoulders his way through the crowd, bleats and baas rise from all over, assaulting him with the stench of dung.

A Pharisee emerges from the local synagogue to judge the potential sacrifices, and Shimon sees his opportunity. The holy man holds Natan’s black lamb, turning it this way and that as Natan entreats, Perfect! Nothing, no blemish, nothing. Nothing wrong. See?

Spotless! the Pharisee says. This one’s good.

Now Shimon’s turn, he lifts his white lamb to the Pharisee and speaks over its plaintive cry. Teacher, I have a question about the Messiah. I’ve studied Torah every day and—

The Pharisee sighs, not looking up from his inspection. "A shepherd wants to learn …"

Yes! Shimon says, smiling, then turns serious again. Do you believe the Messiah will set us free from the occupation?

Yes, the Pharisee says flatly, clearly bored. He will make a great military leader.

Are you sure? Shimon says, rushing to continue, because last Shabbat the priest read from prophet Ezekiel, and he did not say—

How dare you! the Pharisee says.

Aaron rushes over. I’m sorry, Teacher. He is obsessed—

You brought this animal?

Shimon and Aaron nod.

I said ‘spotless’! the Pharisee says.

Spotless, yes! Aaron says.

The Pharisee turns the animal so they can see a wound on its flank. "These are for righteous men, for the perfect sacrifice. He sets the animal down. I can’t send this to Jerusalem!"

Aaron grabs its rope and begins to lead it away, bowing. Very sorry. Very sorry. Very sorry.

The Pharisee wags a finger in Shimon’s face as Yoram and Natan approach. "You wonder why the Messiah hasn’t come? It’s because of people like you, keeping him away with your stains! If you come back here without a perfect lamb, I will banish you all from the marketplace."

As the Pharisee spits on the ground in front of the shepherds, Shimon hesitates as if he wants to apologize. But Natan whispers, Now, come. Come.

Shimon moves to follow, but Yoram steps before him. We warned you about this! Are you deaf as well as lame?

I’m sorry!

We are not slowing down for you! You take this runt back up the hill. And try to keep up or find your own way back.

Shimon stares at the ground, and as the others leave, Natan stops and cups the young man’s cheek.

Humiliated but not wanting to return to the flocks alone, Shimon tries to make his way through the crowd to catch the three. But his ankle and the lamb slow him, and his crutch slips in the mud. He falls hard on his right elbow and gashes his forearm. From his knees he scans the crowd for the others, but they have disappeared.

Shimon struggles to his feet and hears a sonorous voice. He finds he is just outside the small synagogue, so praying no one will notice him, he slips through a curtained side door to find an elegantly appointed sanctuary.

At the bimah, the priest reads from a scroll: "The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light; those who dwelt in a land of deep darkness, on them has light shone.

You have multiplied the nation; you have increased its joy; they rejoice before you as with joy at the harvest, as they are glad when they divide the spoil.

At the back of the synagogue, a man glares at Shimon in the doorway with his lamb. The man rises and hurries to him, scowling at the sight of Shimon’s elbow, which—to Shimon’s horror—drips blood onto the threshold. He shoves Shimon. You need to go!

Can I not just listen?

No! This is a holy place!

Please!

Go! Get out! He pushes Shimon back through the curtain and wipes the floor as the priest continues to speak. Shimon listens from outside.

For the yoke of his burden, and the staff for his shoulder, the rod of his oppressor, you have broken as on the day of Midian. For every boot of the tramping warrior in battle tumult and every garment rolled in blood will be burned as fuel for the fire.

Shimon hobbles back into the bustle of the marketplace, thrilled with what he has heard about the Messiah but crestfallen at having been banished. He merely wants to learn, to understand, to worship. He averts his eyes from the Pharisee who had berated him and avoids a Roman guard.

As Shimon makes his way through the crowd, a bedraggled, sharp-featured wayfarer approaches—his dirty face streaked with sweat. He leads a donkey bearing a pregnant young woman. Excuse me, friend, the man says. Could you point me to a well in this town? My wife hasn’t had a drink in hours.

Shimon nods. Yes. The other end of the square.

Thank you, brother.

As the man pulls the donkey away, Shimon gets a better look at the woman, great with child and clearly suffering. He must act. Wait, wait. Here. Shimon hands the man his own water sac.

Oh, thank you for your kindness, the man says, handing it to the woman. She drinks greedily.

They appear to have been on the road for days. How far have you come? Shimon says.

From Galilee. Nazareth.

Shimon looks around and whispers, Don’t say that too loud here. You know they say nothing good can come from—

I know what they say about Nazareth, the man says, smiling. He seems so kind, despite how exhausted he looks.

Don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone. Your secret’s safe with me.

Thank you for your kindness, the Nazarene says, and his wife smiles shyly.

Shimon reaches to shake the man’s hand and introduces himself.

But before the man can respond, the Pharisee approaches, shouting, Out of my way!

We have to go, the man says, and his wife hands back the water sac as they move on.

As Shimon leads his lamb out of the market, he can still faintly hear the priest: Strengthen the weak hands, and make firm the feeble knees. Say to those who have an anxious heart, ‘Be strong; fear not! Behold, your God will come with vengeance, with the recompense of God. He will come and save you.’

• • •

Joseph was bone weary and could only imagine how Mary was feeling as they finally trudged through the small gate into the tiny, but somehow bustling, village of Bethlehem. He had no idea how many of the house and lineage of David would be required to sojourn here from all over the land. Now, the water from the shepherd has slightly refreshed Mary, but does it still make sense to try to find his distant relative, whom he has not, of course, had opportunity to inform of his and Mary’s unique situation?

Distracted by the crowds, he desperately tries to keep everything in his mind at once. Mary is tired, still thirsty, in pain, and due. He has no idea where to turn. He looks this way and that, up one street and down another alley. I believe Samuel’s house is through here, he says, trying to sound surer than he feels. It’s been so long. I’m not sure how he’ll respond to your, uh, condition, but he will have water, and it will be nice to see him.

She appears relieved to hear that, but the more Joseph stares, scanning the market and all the intersecting streets, the less sure he is—of anything. Actually, I don’t know if this is it. It looks so different. Maybe because there are so many people. I think if we, um— But he doesn’t like Mary’s look. She appears ready to topple off the donkey, pressing her fist against her glistening face, eyes shut.

She gazes at him. Yes?

We don’t have time to look for Samuel, he decides.

No, she says, no, it will be fine. I know you wanted to find him.

I need to get you to the inn, Mary. You need your rest. Maybe I can find a well so you can drink more fully, and I’ll take you straight to the inn, eh?

She nods, looking relieved. Thank you.

He carefully guides the donkey, with its precious cargo, through the square. Aah, so many people …

• • •

The sun hangs low on the