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MARYAM AND THE BEAUTIFUL STRANGER By Stephanie Bashein Emerson a fictional narrative loosely based on Luke 1:26-38 Maryam hurried through the narrow streets of Nazareth on her way to one of the wells of the city. She dodged the drovers herding their sheep to the market and the goose girls attempting to keep their flock together. She gave a wide berth to the Roman soldiers gambling in the shade of a date palm tree in front of a drinking-house. Maryam finally arrived at the well, put her jar down and let the water pouring from one of the spouts into the basin below run into her cupped hands as she took a drink. Maryam then lifted her jar and put it under the spout. She was about fifteen years old, a Hebrew descended from the house of David; she was dressed in the Jewish fashion, with long skirts and a veil that would cover her face. Being betrothed but not yet married she wore her hair long and free-flowing; after her wedding she would bind it up under a head-wrap as did her mother and older women relatives. It was getting towards the middle of the day. The drovers and goose girls had passed; everyone was either at the market or on their way home for the midday meal. Even the Roman soldiers had grown bored of their game and had gone into the drinking-house. The street where Maryam stood had become quiet. Her water jar filled, Maryam put it down and sat on the edge of the cool stone of the well, dipping her hand into the water and rubbing it across her neck. She would start home in a few moments; right now she just wanted to catch her breath in the meager shade. It was hot and still; the buzzing of the cicadas rose and fell in hypnotic ululations. Maryam noticed a cloaked man walking towards the well, his hood pulled down around his face. When he stopped she thought he would take a drink and be gone, but instead he raised his head and said directly to her, “Greetings, beloved! Yahweh is with you.” Maryam jumped to her feet, surprised not only by his unusual speech (and the fact that he had spoken to her at all) but also by his appearance. His hood had come down and she saw a man with the same brown skin and dark tightly-curled hair as herself; he had flashing black eyes and a strong, firm mouth around which a little smile played. Maryam stared at him, realizing she was acting like a rude child but fascinated with the beautiful stranger. His skin looked as if it had an inner glow, and he did not avert his eyes from her as etiquette demanded but instead gave her a friendly nod. The cicadas seemed to drone louder as he spoke softly and clearly to her. “Don’t be afraid, Maryam,” he said calmly. “You will become pregnant very soon and then deliver a son, whom you will call Yeshua. He will be known as the son of Yahweh, and Yahweh will set him upon the throne of your ancestor David. He will reign over the house of Jacob and indeed the whole world, and his kingdom will have no end.” Maryam listened in obvious disbelief to the beautiful stranger’s pronouncement, realizing she should be afraid but wasn’t. He was unlike any man she had ever met, which made her curious, and she thought of the words he had just spoken. Perhaps he is a holy man just come from the desert, she thought to herself, but his bearing and appearance did not match those of other nomads she had seen arrive in the city after months in the wild: leathery skinned, wiry-framed men who subscribed to a strict code of etiquette that would never allow them to speak to an unmarried, unescorted woman. Maryam looked up into the stranger’s face and lifted her chin defiantly. “And how is this child to be conceived, since I am not yet married to Joseph, my betrothed, and since I am a virgin and will remain so until my wedding day.” The man smiled at her boldness, realizing it grew out of fear as well as curiosity. “Yahweh will send the holy spirit to you, and the power of Yahweh will move through you and in you, and because of that your child will be called holy and the son of Yahweh.” Maryam shook her head and gave a little derisive laugh. “Become pregnant without sleeping with a man? Impossible!” “Nothing is impossible with Yahweh,” the stranger said seriously. Maryam looked at him closely: he appeared to grow taller and give off light, the cicadas became silent and the entire world seemed to have stopped. Maryam felt a stirring within her; for the first time, the idea that what this beautiful stranger had said was the truth entered her mind. As she stared at him, he looked down on her benevolently and nodded. “Your kinswoman Elizabeth was barren, yet she is now six months’ pregnant in the autumn of her life,” the stranger said softly. “Truly search your heart and know that I am speaking the truth.” Maryam felt as if she were suspended between worlds. All that existed for her at that moment were the two of them, standing in a dusty lane by a gurgling fountain. She felt as if time had stopped and wondered with one part of her mind if this was what the holy men called a vision. Maryam suddenly knew the beautiful stranger for who he really was; for a brief instant she saw him dressed in white with a sword in his hand and a terrible countenance, and then all was as it had been. He was a poor Hebrew, like herself, dressed in sandals and a shabby robe. “Yes, I am the servant of Yahweh,” Maryam whispered. “I will bear this child, and do as you ask.” Gabriel looked at her with a mixture of respect and pity. “You will be blessed beyond any woman, Maryam” he said. “May Yahweh always protect and watch over you.” He then took three steps away from her and walked out of her sight to the other side of the well. The loud buzzing of the cicadas startled Maryam, and she jumped as if caught in a daydream. She turned and went to the other side of the well, but no one was there. An oxcart was coming up one end of the street, laden with goods from the market; down the other end two goat herders were approaching with their flock. The Roman soldiers exited noisily from the drinking-house, and were being stopped by three prostitutes plying their trade. Maryam turned back to the well, thrust both hands under a spout and splashed her face and head. She then picked up her forgotten water jar and started slowly for home. She thought of Joseph, the man she was betrothed to marry, and wondered how she would explain to him what had happened when she became pregnant. Joseph was a kind-hearted man, she knew, and she hoped she could find the right words that would convince him her child was the blessed of Yahweh. Don’t be afraid, the beautiful stranger had admonished her, and Maryam decided to do just that. She had declared herself a servant of Yahweh; surely he would protect her and allow her to bear this child in peace. Yahweh would also move Joseph’s heart to believe her and to marry her as he had promised. Maryam walked into her father’s house and placed the water jar on the table. She then went to find her mother to tell her she had decided to go to the city of Judah this very night and visit their kinswoman Elizabeth, to see how it fared with her and her coming child. Maryam would not tell Elizabeth or anyone what had happened this day. She would put her trust in Yahweh and see where it led her. . |
I am honored to introduce Stephanie Bashein Emerson as a Jewish writer brings a whole new point of view to the table. She is spiritual and wise, and has a compelling style which you won't be able to resist. . |
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