I had grown up with Jesus in the little town of Nazareth in Galilee, some fifteen miles west-southwest of the Sea of Galilee. My family were rug weavers, and my father took the rugs south to Jerusalem several times a year to sell.
Our family was in better financial condition than that of Jesus, the family of Joseph, which we came to know well. There were fewer weavers than carpenters, and the quality of our rugs was good;
The home of Jesus was more modest: a whitewashed cube of stone with a single door and two windows. His father, Joseph, did his carpentry work outside under an olive tree, and when it rained, he continued in a lean-to on the north end of the building. His mother cooked meals outside.
I first met Jesus in the synagogue’s primary school, which we both began to attend at the age of five. The rabbi taught us from the Torah, the holy Law of God. He spoke a sentence, and we recited after him as a group. Jesus was not a religious fanatic. He was a robust, imaginative youth who was a natural leader at game time. One of our games was “Romans and Jews,” like “Cops and Robbers.” A hatred for the Roman occupation forces was instilled in us from youth. We made toy swords from sticks, and our shields came from square scraps of wood in the carpentry shops. Childhood was a carefree time, except for the time required in school.
Klemp, Harold. Autobiography of a Modern Prophet. Eckankar. Kindle Edition.
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