Mary pulled Miriam from her breast, bent, and kissed me on the forehead. “You are a good friend, Biff.”

I almost melted in my sandals, but I caught Joshua frowning at me. “It’s not the truth,” he said.

“It will keep the Pharisees from judging you.”

“I’m not afraid of them,” said the nine-year-old. “I didn’t do this to the bread.”

“Then why take the blame and the punishment for it?”

“I don’t know, seems like I should, doesn’t it?”

“Sit still so your mother can cut your hair.” I dashed out the door, Judah and James on my heels, the three of us bleating like spring lambs.

“Behold! Moses has put his face on the bread for Passover! Behold!”

Miracles. She kissed me. Holy Moses on a matzo! She kissed me.

The miracle of the serpent? It was an omen, in a way, although I can only say that because of what happened between Joshua and the Pharisees later on. At the time, Joshua thought it was the fulfillment of a prophecy, or that’s how we tried to sell it to his mother and father.

It was late summer and we were playing in a wheat field outside of town when Joshua found the nest of vipers.

“A nest of vipers,” Joshua shouted. The wheat was so tall I couldn’t see where he was calling from.

“A pox on your family,” I replied.

“No, there’s a nest of vipers over here. Really.”

“Oh, I thought you were taunting me. Sorry, a pox off of your family.”

“Come, see.”

I crashed through the wheat to find Joshua standing by a pile of stones a farmer had used to mark the boundary of his field. I screamed and backpedaled so quickly that I lost my balance and fell. A knot of snakes writhed at Joshua’s feet, skating over his sandals and wrapping themselves around his ankles. “Joshua, get away from there.”

“They won’t hurt me. It says so in Isaiah.”