My son was my first and my only born. He laboured in our field and he was contented until he heard the man called Jesus speaking to the multitude.
Then my son suddenly became different, as if a new spirit, foreign and unwholesome, had embraced his spirit.
He abandoned the field and the garden; and he abandoned me also. He became worthless, a creature of the highways.
That man Jesus of Nazareth was evil, for what good man would separate a son from his mother?
The last thing my child said to me was this: “I am going with one of His disciples to the North Country. My life is established upon the Nazarene. You have given me birth, and for that I am grateful to you. But I needs must go. Am I not leaving with you our rich land, and all our silver and gold? I shall take naught but this garment and this staff.”
Thus my son spoke, and departed.
And now the Romans and the priests have laid hold upon Jesus and crucified Him; and they have done well.
A man who would part mother and son could not be godly.
The man who sends our children to the cities of the Gentiles cannot be our friend.
I know my son will not return to me. I saw it in his eyes. And for this I hate Jesus of Nazareth who caused me to be alone in this unploughed field and this withered garden.