A few days ago, Mary’s parents had introduced her to a man. Joseph was quiet, polite, and a completely and utterly unwelcome disruption in Mary’s lovely little life. She loved running to the well with her friends, kicking dust at the chickens, milking the goats. Now the stakes were higher suddenly, and Mary didn’t want to play adult games.
But then she met the winged man. He appeared one night after dark, a ghostly silhouette in the moonlight, and he told her, despite the questionable circumstances, not to be afraid.
Mary tried to be brave. ‘A man comes to visit a little girl in the night. How should she greet him?’
‘You are not a girl,’ he said. ‘And I am not a man.’
It was in the half-light that Mary saw a feather ruffle, and, with a twitch, the angel extended two great white wings, blocking out the moonlight and cloaking the room in scary darkness.
‘You are blessed among women,’ he said. ‘You’re going to have a baby.’
‘That’s impossible.’
The angel was insistent. ‘You will have a son,’ he said. ‘Your cousin Elizabeth too. Let her be your proof.’
‘Elizabeth is barren.’
The angel turned and, with a shudder, plucked something from his wing. He bowed down and held it out like a gift. ‘And so,’ the angel said, ‘You might just believe in miracles. God’s blessing, Mary.’
Mary took the feather. She closed her eyes, and with a flap of his wings the angel was gone.
* * *
Mary found herself becoming curious about Joseph after that. One of her friends had seen him coming into town with a donkey, laden up with goods from the city. Another day, Mary spied him in the living room talking with her father. Her parents hadn’t believed her when she had told them she was pregnant. They obviously hadn’t told Joseph, either, because the wedding still seemed to be on. A good thing? Maybe.
Joseph worked at the edge of town building houses. One afternoon, a few weeks after her visit from the angel, Mary was carrying pots of water through a fig grove on her way home. Her heart jumped when she saw him at the opposite end of the path. Joseph was stacked with tools, sweating in the sun. Mary decided to ignore him out of politeness. An excuse, of course; her face was becoming redder and redder the closer he came.
Mary’s plans to play it cool were swallowed when, a few seconds later, she found herself assailed by nausea and was forced to rush into the trees. She tried to place the pots down with grace, but one spilled, water streaming down onto her dress and through the dirt. Helplessly, she began to hurl herself into the grass.
‘Mary, are you alright?’
Joseph’s footsteps followed her down to where she knelt on the rocks. Mary tried to hold her hair back, but with one hand on the full pot, she couldn’t keep the strands from sticking to her mouth. Joseph picked up both pots and leaned them carefully against the tree. Mary brushed her hair from her face, took a breath, and began to vomit again.
Then, finally, it was over. Joseph passed her the water jug.
‘I can’t drink it,’ Mary was breathless still. ‘It’s for my Mum.’
‘You can drink it,’ Joseph said. ‘And afterwards, we’ll walk back to the well together. You’ll get your water. Or I’ll bring it to you.’
A fig dropped to the ground from a tree nearby. Joseph helped Mary to her feet. He picked up the jugs and carried them along with his tools, all stacked up like the donkey he brought from town. ‘Come on,’ he said. ‘Let’s go.’
* * *
Mary found herself being consumed by the situation. Her body seemed no longer hers, her fate unsure. She began to worry about what the future held. Shame? Divorce? A slow and stony death? Mary needed an escape.
Elizabeth saw her cousin coming from far away. Mary was taller, she noticed, and her hair was longer, but something greater had its hold on her now. Mary was exasperated, her brow furrowed and anxious, and her hands, once fidgety and mischievous, now hung still by her sides.
‘What’s wrong?’ Mary stood quietly in the hot air. Elizabeth reached out and hugged her tightly.
‘I know,’ Elizabeth said. ‘Look, here.’ She turned sideways and pulled her dress tight. Her belly was round. The trees, tall and watchful over the house, shook slowly in the wind.
‘The Lord is with us,’ Elizabeth said. ‘The Lord is with thee.’
* * *
Mary stayed with her cousin for three months. She was so nervous to go back home. But once Elizabeth’s child was born, she reasoned, she would have proof that her story was legitimate. Maybe people would be merciful. She wanted to believe, and she almost did – she found faith in the way the wheat grew and fell, in the sun’s orbit, in the way the animals ate and slept. God was with her, she thought, and everything would be alright.
But then, as she marched the long road home, Mary came across the body of a crucified man. Women were whispered about in towns nearby. King Herod’s reign brought danger, the world left no space for mistake, and Mary, so round and slow, could not run fast from such a threat on her own.
* * *
That afternoon in the fig trees had stayed on Joseph’s mind. He came to care for Mary, to think of her when he walked to and from the well, to watch out for her face in town. Joseph had refused to believe the rumours that carried down the grapevine, but Mary’s departure made him nervous. For three long months, he built houses and peered down at the road into town, hoping each time that the traveller might look up, and it would be Mary’s eyes that squinted into the sun.
When Joseph heard that she was back, he went straight to her house. He was nervous, but he didn’t get a chance to knock. Following an outbreak of scuffling and heated voices inside, Mary burst out the front door and, blushing and out of breath, regretted her decision immediately when she saw Joseph on the front step. Mary looked different now; she was heavy and bright, the fabric of her dress stretched and flowing in different places than before. She was pregnant.
‘Joseph.’ His heart sank.
‘Listen to me.’ She reached out a hand and tried to take his, but he kept them firmly to himself. ‘This baby is God’s. It belongs to no other man. You must believe me.’ She tried to be brave and look him in the eyes. ‘Please, I’m telling you the truth.’
Joseph walked away. He stormed through the village and out towards the well, a dangerous place after dark, a place where he knew he could be alone. When he reached the fig trees, he strayed from the road and walked into the bush. Joseph wept.
* * *
Mary wouldn’t be kept at home. She searched for him everywhere. She could feel eyes on her – soldiers, neighbours, cats, and crickets watched on with curiosity and judgment, some with disgust. Finally, down the path to the well, she caught wind of a soft snoring and pushed aside the leaves. He was asleep against a tree. Mary sat down across from him, pulled her sheep’s skin tight around her in the cold, and waited.
Owls were hooting when Joseph woke up. The winged man from his dream still haunted him. Before he had time to process, Joseph spied two eyes watching him across the rocks.
‘Mary!’ Joseph removed his jacket and wrapped it around her, incredulous. ‘Go home!’
‘You have to believe me,’ she said. Mary’s face was white and black in the moving shadows. ‘I want to,’ Joseph said. ‘I want to so badly that I had a dream where an angel told me it was all true. But Mary, even if what you say is true, nobody will believe us.’ He picked up a stick on the ground, looked at it, and placed it down again. ‘Have you heard the news?’ He gestured in the direction of the city, far away. ‘I heard King Herod is planning to slaughter babies. There are soldiers everywhere. Your own parents…’
As Joseph spoke, Mary reached down into her bag. The feather was scrunched and ruffled by her adventures, but it still glowed white under the moon. ‘You said you dreamt of an angel.’
Joseph went silent. Mary smoothed the feather out. Then, as far as she could manage, she leaned forward and held it out with a soft little hand. ‘The angel visited me, too.’
It was getting colder. ‘I’m scared,’ Mary said. ‘But I’m not as lucky as you.’ She looked down at her stomach. ‘I don’t have a choice. I have to believe that God is on my side, or I’ll die.’
Joseph looked down at the feather again. He touched it with his fingers. ‘Will you brave these odds with me?’
Fig leaves bounced through the air and settled in the dirt. They would have to leave Nazareth before the snow fell. But neither of them was a stranger to adventure, and Mary knew, even separately, that they had never actually been alone.
Mary waited one more moment. Then, one hand on a tree, she got to her feet and stood. ‘Come on,’ she said. ‘Let’s go.’
REFLECTION QUESTIONS AND ACTIVITIES
Trust in love - questions and activities
Read Trust in love (from the Summer 2021 edition of Australian Catholics) and take part in the following questions and activities.
Jesus, change, changing gender roles and the Church - questions and activities
How did Jesus teach us to deal with change? Was Jesus a changemaker? Who were some influential female changemakers from Biblical times? How does the Church change and deal with change when it comes to issues of gender?