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.
And I hate all those who praise Him.
Not many days ago they told me that Jesus once said:
“My father and my mother and my brethren are those who hear my word and follow me.”
But why should sons leave their mothers to follow His footsteps?
And why should the milk of my breast be forgotten for a fountain not yet tasted? And the warmth of my arms be forsaken for the Northland, cold and unfriendly?
Aye, I hate the Nazarene, and I shall hate Him to the end of my days, for He has robbed me of my firstborn, my only son.