“Just in case they haven’t read the Prophets…”

Joshua stepped aside, sending the snakes scattering, and there, behind him, was the biggest cobra I had ever seen. It reared up until it was taller than my friend, spreading a hood like a cloak.

“Run, Joshua.”

He smiled. “I’m going to call her Sarah, after Abraham’s wife. These are her children.”

“No kidding? Say good-bye now, Josh.”

“I want to show Mother. She loves prophecy.” With that, he was off toward the village, the giant serpent following him like a shadow. The baby snakes stayed in the nest and I backed slowly away before running after my friend.

I once brought a frog home, hoping to keep him as a pet. Not a large frog, a one-handed frog, quiet and well mannered. My mother made me release him, then cleanse myself in the immersion pool (the mikveh) at the synagogue. Still she wouldn’t let me in the house until after sunset because I was unclean. Joshua led a fourteen-foot-long cobra into his house and his mother squealed with joy. My mother never squealed.

Mary slung the baby to her hip, kneeled in front of her son, and quoted Isaiah: “‘The wolf also shall dwell with the lamb, and the leopard shall lie down with the kid; and the calf and the young lion and the fatling together; and a little child shall lead them. And the cow and the bear shall feed; their young ones shall lie down together: and the lion shall eat straw like the ox. And the sucking child shall play on the hole of the asp, and the weaned child shall put his hand on the cockatrice’s den.’”

James, Judah, and Elizabeth cowered in the corner, too frightened to cry. I stood outside the doorway watching.

The snake swayed behind Joshua as if preparing to strike. “Her name is Sarah.”

“They were cobras, not asps,” I said. “A whole pile of cobras.”

“Can we keep her?” Joshua asked. “I’ll catch rats for her, and make a bed for her next to Elizabeth’s.”