An Imaginative Retelling of the Christmas Story
Narrated by Gabriel, Joseph and Mary, Elizabeth, and the Innkeeper’s Wife
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ELIZABETH Counsels Mary
I laughed and cried as Mary sang a song with words that neither of us had ever heard before. “My heart soars up to You, O Lord! You see that I am small and weak and poor, but you have chosen to bless me and to use me to bless all generations to come! You have shown me that you alone have mercy and strength and fullness. You are all I need! O thank you! Thank you! Thank you!”
While Mary stayed with me, we prepared for the arrival of our own miracle—the baby that Zacharias and I had desired for so long. I didn’t pat Mary on the shoulder and feed her the sweet goodies I always had when she visited as a girl. I looked at her squarely in the eyes now, woman to woman, and told her what I knew she was already beginning to understand for herself.
“This is not going to be easy for you or for me, Mary. You are very young, perhaps too young. And Zacharias and I are really too old to be having a baby. But God has a plan for our boys.” I patted my swollen belly. “This is a boy, you know. God told Zacharias. And he already responds to the Spirit of God. He will turn the hearts of many to the Lord.” She smiled wisely then. “And he will be an older cousin to your own baby boy. He will lead the way.”
MARY Returns to Nazareth
By the time I returned to Nazareth, the truth was evident. I was pregnant with a Miracle! But a miracle does not necessarily make life simpler. You know that, don’t you? It may be inconvenient, unsettling, out of our control. It was all of that for me. I did not know it then, but the forming of the Holy One in my womb was but the beginning of a whole lifetime of yielding to the miracle-plan of God, a plan that cut across everything I would have chosen for myself, a plan that ended by piercing my heart.
Knowing that I carried a Miracle complicated all my relationships with folk in the village. What should I say to the old women, I wondered. They pretend to be busy, but they cluck their tongues and shake their heads when I go past them on my way to the market. They sit in their doorways, watching. Have they nothing better to do than speculate about my thickening waistline? They know I still live in my father’s house. They know that I’m promised to Joseph. They think perhaps my dear father hasn’t guarded closely enough the moral welfare of his daughter. They think Joseph—good, kind Joseph—may not be so honorable after all. And they probably think I’m no better than a woman of the street. Oh, I wish they would just stop their thinking and their eyebrow-raising! But even so, I always felt that sweet sense that I now knew was the overshadowing. I held my head high and walked past them with a smile, making them wonder, I’m sure, just what I had been up to!
It was time to tell Joseph. Now that all the busybodies knew, it was only fair that he should know the truth. What if, having that knowledge, he decided to send me away, keeping my pregnancy out of the public eye to spare both of us further embarrassment? Or worse, what if he decided not to marry me at all? My heart was heavy as I turned toward his shop, almost hoping I would not find him there or that the shop would be busy with customers. But he was there, and he was alone.
(To be continued)
MaryMartha
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Email: mrymrtha@gmail.com
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