LITMIR.BIZ

Скачать книгу

to the shepherds? And when they told us, I remembered Blessed Gabriel’s words to me nine months earlier: “The child to be born will be called holy, the Son of God.”

      To the shepherds, and to a poor, unmarried girl, such promises . . .

      But he did exalt the humble all that night. So lovely a night, Brother Luke. The manger smelled of springtime after his birth. The darkness was dissolved, and in that lowly stable shone the light of a holy presence.

      It was a comforting light, not hot like the sun’s, but silvery, like joy come alive. A light that sang entered the stable. Maybe it was an echo of the angels’ song I heard, but the whole place was full of music. And I didn’t even stop to wonder, is it possible that this baby in my arms is the Messiah of Israel? That night everything seemed possible, even peace on earth . . .

       (She drifts into a dream.)

      Ah, yes, I see I must have drifted away. It’s easy to doze off at my age. Every time I think of that blessed night, I seem to leave the world.

      Afterward, we moved to the house of one of the shepherds, who by then had offered us hospitality, embarrassed of the stable. In all our happiness, we lulled ourselves, Joseph and I, that we would enjoy the baby like normal parents and call him our own. I suckled him, held him, and changed him, loving him while Joseph fashioned a crib for him with his clever hands. The days passed in contentment, so that again Joseph and I forgot the strange apparitions in the night, the wonder and the prophecies.

      But when we took him to the temple for the Presentation, an old sage by the name of Simeon, who was a prophet, brought the fear and the wonder back to my heart. He took my Jesus in his arms, his old face shattered in smiles and tears, and he said upon looking at my baby, he said: “Mine eyes have seen thy salvation, oh Lord.” I knew, of course, that Jesus was not mine, but that he was a gift to all. Then Simeon’s old eyes looked into my mind, and there was hard mercy in him as he said, “And a sword shall pierce your own soul also.” I knew his meaning. I felt it suddenly in my heart: the horror of my life thirty-three years later.

      And again we forgot, but then the Magi came in all their strange splendor and filled us both with foreboding. Different from the shepherds they were, ah yes. We were familiar with shepherds, had even become familiar—no, that is not the right word—had become used to the appearance of angels, but these visitors! They entered trailing many-colored robes, and sparkling with their jewels. They spoke strangely, they even smelled strange. Joseph looked lost. Up to then, he had been serene amidst the wondrous events of our lives, but in the presence of these Magi from the Orient, he became so confused, he stuttered.

      Then one of the royal visitors approached me as I held my son, knelt, and uttered a great speech that I did not understand. Joseph, who knew some Greek, asked him the meaning of his words, and this kneeling prince of this world repeated them. “He is calling our Jesus King of the Jews!” Joseph explained in amazement. “How is it possible that these strangers know of the Messiah?”

      But I was no longer surprised. It all fell into place—the words of Gabriel to me and to Joseph, the angels’ words to the shepherds, and now the utterances of these wise men from the East. I again felt deep within me the knowledge and the light that were given to me upon that first visit from the angel. This baby Jesus was a gift of God for the whole world. Then I put this knowledge away until later, much later.

      For immediately something happened that took from me the joy of the Lord and gave me the fear of a mother for her son. Our strange visitors knelt and offered gifts to the baby Jesus. There was a box of beautiful gold pieces, and my first thought was, lovely, I shall save it for him and he will not need to suffer want. I did not know then that the moment he was old enough to do so, he would give it all away to the poor. The other gifts were spices and perfumes. I still remember the pungent smell of frankincense permeating the room. But then one of them lifted a wreath of myrrh, and Jesus reach for it, grasped it, and put it on his head. And there was such a serious, intent look on that innocent face that a cold hand clutched at my heart when I smelled the bitter incense all over the lovely hair. Myrrh, I thought, myrrh for burial, my son. And I suddenly saw it as it happened thirty-three years later—the washing of his body and the anointing of it with myrrh . . .

      Ah Luke, a sword pierced my heart that night in the presence of all the earthly wisdom of our visitors. Do you understand a mother’s heart? What kind eyes you have; you must have known another’s pain. Yes, I have grown weary, but I must finish, my young friend. You may not find me able to tell you again, so let me continue.

      You asked what made him different from other children. Well, nothing really. He was childhood personified. All the joy and vivid energy of childhood were his: playfulness and curiosity and great generosity of spirit. Except for one thing, he was truly different. You see, I had other children by then and knew the difference.

      Jesus was the only child I ever encountered who knew the meaning of total obedience. Do you know what that means? You nod but look bemused. How can I explain? When the day sang with its springtime promise and he longed to run outside to play or lie under a tree, all I had to do was look at him and say, “Help me with little James, my son. Look after him for me today.” Jesus would stop at the door, turn around without regret, and do exactly as I asked, never once complaining.

      And always, throughout the time he was with us, I wanted to spare him the suffering to come. I longed to keep him from pain. Let it come to me but not to him, I prayed, not to him. As though I knew that in this one desire of mine he would truly disobey me. I know now that there was no other way for the world to meet his perfect goodness. Only the cross. And soon he knew it.

      But I have drifted from your questions. During those early years there were hints of both the glory and the pain, but they came more rarely. Soon he left home for good, without ever looking back. The rest you know. Blessed be the name of the Lord.

       Questions to Ponder

      1 How has your understanding of Mary changed after reading this monologue?

      2 The Greeks call Mary “Theotokos,” the mother of God, or more accurately, “God-bearer.” God chose Mary, a woman of no previous importance, to bear Jesus, the Son of God. How does this knowledge shape your own understanding of God’s ways of working in the world?

      3 If an angel of God came to you and revealed the kinds of secrets he did to Mary, would you believe him? Would you do whatever you were asked to do?

      4 In some religious traditions Mary is considered not only a virgin but sinless as well. Is this important to you? Why or why not?

      5 Many mothers today, particularly those in inner cities and in war-torn parts of the world, must live with the realistic fear that their sons will not live a long life. How does Mary’s courage speak to the realities of our violent world, where teenagers die at record rates?

      1. The birth narratives are found only in Matthew and Luke. The earliest written gospel, Mark, did not refer to the stories she is telling Luke.

      TWO

       Was This the Promise God Had Given Me?

      MARY REMEMBERS THE LAST HOURS

       John 19:25–27; also, John 2:1–5

       All of the Gospel of Luke

       Matthew 1:18–25

       Mark 3:31–35

       Acts 1:14

       (The speaker is Mariam, the mother of Jesus, and the listener is the evangelist Luke.)

      What

Скачать книгу