Fear Not, Joseph, to Take Mary... by Cedric Marc Klein (c) 1995  How can I believe it?  I love her.  I trusted her.  But not enough to believe that story.  Mary's just back from helping her aunt Elizabeth have her baby.  You remember Eliza- beth and her husband, the priest Zechariah.  Too old to bear children, yet they just had a son. Yes, it was a miracle, but not like the miracle Mary is claiming.  Because Mary just told me she is pregnant.  And that HE is the Father.  Mary, what really happened?  You wouldn't lie to me, or blaspheme God, not if you were in your right mind.  Of course.  Someone forced you.  Mocked your prayers for help.  Claimed to be God's Angel, come to give you His Son.  And your mind snapped.  But you don't seem mad, confused.  You're too sane, more sure of yourself than I've ever seen.  You tell me to study the Scriptures, to pray, to trust you and the Father of your child.  I want to believe you, to marry you, but I cannot take on this madness.  It's just too much.  You're not an adulteress.  I won't let them stone you.  We'll send you away, to have your child, let your mind heal.  God, Mary, forgive me.  It's the most I can do...  In my dreams- Mary, standing in the Temple court.  The priest challenging her to prove her claims.  Her reply. "Joseph can't trust me.  I will not challenge that.  I call Lord Yahweh to stand for me."  The priest will not hear my excuses for her.  He declares her sane, either a blaspheming whore or the Chosen Lady of Yahweh.  As much as I love her, I cannot accept it.  Let God champion her.  Someone comes forth, bowing to her, "Hail, favored of God, His Daughter and His Mother," and he turns to me, "Hail, you whom she favors.  I am Gabriel, Power of God.  Joseph, why doubt Mary?"  Why doubt her?  Rather, why believe her?  Even now, this is just a dream.  Gabriel is not here.  Just an angel conjured up from desperate love.  If only I can awaken to think clearly.  Until he strikes me to the ground.  He is challenging me as a son of Jacob, Jacob who wrestled with the Divine Angel to be re-named ‘Israel', God's contender.  I pull him down, grappling with him.  I'm no Jacob!  No Biblical saint!  Why choose us? There must be others.  I throw him from me, gasping for air, knowing this is too real.  Gabriel stands, "No other woman for the Most High, and no other man for her.  Behold your Mary, Mother of the New Adam, her son who is also to be yours.  It is He Who shall be pierced by the Serpent and thereby destroy it!"  He helps me up, leads me to her.  I hold back, not worthy to be her husband, much less Messiah's father.  They deserve someone better!  "They don't want anyone better, Joseph.  They want you. So, fear not, Joseph, to take Mary as your wife.  She conceives by the Holy Spirit and bears a son.  Call His name ‘Joshua'- ‘Jesus'- ‘Yahweh Saves', for He shall save His people from their sins.  Thus are fulfilled the words of the Lord's prophet, ‘Behold, a virgin shall conceive and bear a son, and they shall call him Immanuel- God with us.'"  And Gabriel is gone.  He has won.  I don't just believe.  I know.  And I look at dear Mary once more.  Thank you, Gabriel.  For I have won also.  I awaken, run to her home, greet her parents.  They have known all the time.  "She's walking in the garden," her father says.  "Go, tell her."  Last I saw her, she was possessed of a quiet intensity, a calm defiance based on knowing she spoke the truth.  Now, she's quiet, but not calm.  Intense, but not defiant.  She looks up, praying, not noticing me, radiating a frightening strength, born of the struggle between her faith in God and the uncertainty of my love for her.  Mary.  As Solomon said of his beloved, radiant as the sun, lovely as the moon, awe-inspi- ring as the flaring hosts of heaven.  A lady adorned with the very gold, silver, and jewels of the firnament.  I run to embrace her.  Through her tears, she looks up at me, her eyes demanding I speak. I look into the soul of a frightened, faithful maiden whose womb grows with the Hope of us all.  You've heard it before, Mary, but I must repeat the greeting that all humanity shall echo. "Rejoice, beloved of God's Grace. Cherished are you of all women, and cherished the fruit born of your flesh, Joshua.  And how is it the Mother of our Lord should choose me as her husband?"   *****