There goes another one, another twitch of another curtain. The gossip-mongers are out in force and I am the talk of the town.
My name is Mary — well, that is the term that polite people use when speaking of me; I don’t want to mention what the less polite ones call me. I guess I don’t blame them. After all, the evidence is damning: a young, unmarried girl, heavily pregnant; spouting some unrealistic waffle about an angel, conception through the Holy Spirit and giving birth to God’s only son. Whatever next!
However, every word of it is true. Let me tell you my story.
I am a single girl from Nazareth, engaged to an older, wiser man by the name of Joseph. My parents chose him for me, but he is a good man with a good job and a steady income and, to be honest, I am absolutely in love with him!
One day, still waiting for the wedding, I was doing the daily round of jobs, when the house became ablaze with light. There in front of me stood an angel in a shining white robe.
“Do not be afraid,” he said. “I am Gabriel and I bring you news of great joy. You are chosen by God; you will carry and give birth to his son, Jesus, the Messiah, who will redeem his people.”
I was a God-fearing young woman, so despite my fear and disbelief, I questioned him. “How can this be?” I asked.
“The Spirit of God will touch you, and a child will be conceived. He will reign over the people of God, and his kingdom will have no end.”
What was I to say? What was I to do? This was all completely insane! I was not of royal blood; I was just a normal girl. Surely there had been a mix-up, a case of mistaken identity? Yet the angel seemed convinced; his mission strategy was clear: sign up the girl and God will do the rest.
My first instinct was to run, but I calmed myself and began to accept the part I would play in God’s ongoing story. “I am the servant of my God," I said, resigning myself to all that was to come: the shame, the whispers, the dagger—looks, the disappointment in Joseph’s eyes.
A backstreet wedding awaits me now, and a long and tiring journey to Bethlehem, as well as the pain of childbirth and all that will follow. My heart is already so full of love for a child that is only partly mine — a child who will grow into a man and, I believe, live and die to rebuild the broken relationship between us and God.
Prayer
God of justice, who called Mary to carry your son
and bear the brunt of discrimination and gossip,
help me to look to you for my sense of security and purpose,
and to find the peace in you that Mary found.
Help me to respond to your call in the way she did,
by offering myself completely to you.
Please grant me the grace for all you call me to do,
just as you did with her.
Amen.
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