Ayala's King: Pt. 4

Do not be afraid to take Mary as your wife. 

The angel Gabriel had been perfectly clear when he visited Joseph in a dream.

Joseph had drifted through nearly six months being what he considered unafraid. He had gone through with the wedding to the girl of his dreams. He had walked by her side through Nazereth, fully aware of the stares and gossip being delivered at their expense. He had travelled with her all the way to Bethlehem and explained to his family the story he had struggled to believe himself.

But as he watched Leah dry off the baby and wrap him up tightly, Joseph was terrified. 

What Yahweh had asked of him felt impossible. 

It was different for Mary. She was gentle, patient, and filled in everything that Joseph lacked. She loved the Lord with all of her heart, soul, and mind, and hadn’t hesitated, even when asked to do something that would shatter life as she knew it. 

Joseph, on the other hand, felt incredibly inadequate to raise the very Son of God. 

He and Mary had spent their short marriage attending Synagogue, soaking up all the scripture they could, and discussing it as a couple. It wasn’t just the prophet Isaiah. Every single word and paragraph of the Torah and the books of the prophets were suddenly drenched in new meanings he had never considered before. It all had seemed so meaningless before– now, he devoured it all, finally understanding what Jeremiah had meant when he so gloriously penned the words, ‘Look, the days are coming– this is the Lord’s declaration– when I will raise up a righteous branch for David.’ 

Jeremiah’s words hadn’t been for some warrior who would come and run the Romans out of Isreal. 

They had been for the little baby in Mary’s womb. 

How was one simple carpenter expected to raise the Messiah?

“Joseph.” Joseph looked up into Leah’s eyes, steady and calm. “I need you to hold him, please, while I finish up here.” 

Joseph looked down at the baby. He was wrapped in only a thin blanket, his tiny legs flailing. A thin, mewling cry drifted up into the air, and Joseph’s daze shattered. He held out his hands and let Leah place the baby carefully in them. She eyed him closely, but once she was sure he wouldn’t drop the baby, she turned back to Mary, rubbing her stained hands down her tunic and taking a deep breath. 

The baby’s lungs had filled fully, and he wailed louder, crying for his mother. Crying for the home he had left, and for the throne he had abandoned. 

Joseph cradled him close to his chest, sheltering the baby from the cold wind with his own robe, trying to keep his hands steady, so Leah could cut the cord that bound Mary and her child. 

But he failed. 

The weight of the precious life he was holding hit him like a punch to the face. 

The angel Gabriel had been clear when he visited Mary. 

He will be called the Son of the Most High God. 

The eternal, omnipotent God of Isreal was being held by a poor carpenter. 

“Joseph,” Mary said in a voice filled with all of her exhaustion, and Joseph looked down at her, a smile already on his face. 

He could not have been more proud of her. 

She lay on a bed of straw, her face streaked with tears and hair pooling around her head. She grimaced as Leah pushed her gently sideways, clutching at the straw hard so she wouldn’t cry out. But her eyes were locked on Joseph, and without hesitation, he handed his wife the baby they had waited four hundred years for. 

“Good,” Leah said. She straightened up and closed her eyes momentarily. “I’ll go get you both something to eat. And Ayala will want to see the baby.” 

She got to her feet heavily and moved to walk away, but Mary reached out to her. “Leah….” she hesitated, and for the first time since their marriage, Joseph saw her for who she was: a girl scarcely older than a child herself, who had done her best to hold herself together. “Adonai bless you for your help.” 

Leah nodded, but a tear slipped down her cheek. “Raise him well,” she said gruffly, pulling her shawl closer about her shoulders. “It’s no easy task, raising a child, and this one will be no exception. Messiah or not.” 

She slipped away into the gradually fading darkness, and Mary bowed her head and wept. 

Joseph rubbed her back, helpless to do anything but stay with her. 

No words could ease the pain she felt, and nothing he could say would change their situation. 

“I can’t do this,” Mary managed to say. She took in a ragged breath, doing her best to collect herself once more. “This child…. This baby is the light of our people. The perfect, sinless Son of God. Who am I to be trusted with such a responsibility?” She clutched at Joseph’s sleeve, her voice rising in pitch. “I’m nothing like him. How could I be the one chosen to raise the Messiah?” 

Silently, Joseph removed her fingers from his sleeve and threaded his hand through hers. “Mary. Breathe.” He waited patiently until she obeyed. “If Yahweh chose us, I would venture to say that he knows how ill-equipped we are.” 

“Yes,” Mary whispered, but it was half-hearted. He wrapped his arms around her, being careful not to shift her too much. 

“I’m serious. I think that if the Lord sent us the perfect Messiah, He’s the one who will worry about making sure His plan works. It’s not up to us– we just get to participate.” 

Mary’s grip loosened on the baby, and her breathing evened out slightly. “You suddenly sound very wise.” 

“Indeed.” Joseph chuckled, then leaned down to see the baby. “Let me see him– our precious little boy.” 

“Jesus,” Mary said softly. She lowered the corner of the blanket so Joseph could see. 

Two eyes. A tiny, button nose. A mouth that looked very much like Mary’s. 

Joseph didn’t know what he expected the son of God to look like, but it wasn’t so very human. Impulsively, he kissed Jesus’ forehead. 

Oh, Yahweh– how gracious you are to let your servant see the fulfillment of all your promises. 

The doorway to the house slammed, and Joseph tore his gaze away from Mary and the baby to see Ayala flying toward them. 

He took a deep breath and reassured Mary with a smile. 

They would get through the next day, breath by breath and hour by hour. 

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