Jesus by James Martin Read Free Book Online Page A

poor, and though as an unmarried woman she occupies a lowly state in society, God loves her—lavishly.
    Mary is the forerunner of all those in the Christian life who will be judged by human standards as unworthy of God’s grace. But God has other ideas.
    â€œThe Lord is with you,” the angel continues.
    It is not surprising that Mary is surprised, utterly confused, or, in some translations, terrified. Encounters with the divine often engender fear. Sensing her reaction, the angel says, “Do not be afraid, Mary.”
    The angel explains that she will bear a son. The boy will be called Jesus ( Iēsous in Greek). The Hebrew name—Yeshua—was common at the time, a shortened form of Joshua (Yehoshua), the successor to Moses. The name means “God helps” or “God saves.”
    In A Marginal Jew , his magisterial study of the historical Jesus, the Reverend John P. Meier, professor of New Testament at Notre Dame, notes that for most of the period covered by the Old Testament, Israelites were not named after the great patriarchs and matriarchs. But a century or two before Jesus, there came an upsurge in “native-religious” feeling in Palestine. That Jesus’s mother and her husband bear names from the Old Testament (Miriam and Joseph) may indicate that he was born into a family who participated in the desire for a reawakening, or reaffirmation, of Jewish identity under Roman rule. 11
    Mary’s child will be “Son of the Most High,” says the angel. (Later in Luke’s Gospel, a ranting demoniac will identify him with a similar title. 12 ) He will inherit the throne of his ancestor David and will rule over the house of Jacob. “Of his kingdom,” Mary is told, “there will be no end.”
    But the young woman is less concerned with what her son will do than with something more immediate: the pregnancy. So she asks the angel plainly, “How can this be, since I am a virgin?”
    When Zechariah questions how the birth of his son would be accomplished, the angel offers an explanation but also strikes him dumb, as if punishing him for doubting. The angel treats Mary more gently, offering a mysterious explanation: the Holy Spirit will “overshadow” her. The angel again emphasizes the significance of her child: “He will be called Son of God.”
    Then the angel further reassures her. If Mary questions, she can look to Zechariah’s wife, Elizabeth, who is Mary’s cousin. “This is the sixth month for her who was said to be barren,” says the angel. (The reader already knows this.) Finally comes one of the clearest biblical affirmations of God’s power: “For nothing will be impossible with God.”
    Mary decides. “Here am I, the servant of the Lord,” she says. The Greek word is doulē , or slave. “Let it be with me according to your word.” With that the angel leaves her.
    T HE STORY OF THE Annunciation never fails to move me. And for many years I wondered what drew me to this particular Gospel story. Is it the irruption of the extraordinary into an ordinary woman’s daily life? Is it how a single decision—Mary’s yes—changes history? Is it how God chooses the unlikeliest people to accomplish God’s desires for the world?
    All of those things speak to me, as well as something more personal. For the more I reflect on this passage, the more the story appears to encapsulate the progress of a person’s relationship with God. What happens to Mary happens to us.
    First of all, the initiative lies entirely with God. God begins the conversation with Mary, as God does with us, breaking into our lives in unexpected ways. We find ourselves touched by a Scripture reading, moved to tears by a friend’s comforting words during a confusing time, or befuddled by joy at a glimpse of autumn leaves shining in the late afternoon sun. And we think, Why am I feeling these feelings of longing,