Magyar Egyház, 1965 (44. évfolyam, 2-12. szám)
1965-12-01 / 12. szám
MAGYAR EGYHÁZ 11 And so they met many nights; and it was often that the cock signalled the coming of a new day, and they were still together exchanging their memories of Jesus. It was usually Luke, with his orderly Greek mind, who guided the wandering thoughts of the disciples back to the clear sequence of the story. One evening it was again Luke who spoke up: “Brethren. There is one thing we never discussed before. We never spoke about the birth of the Lord. I admit I wasn’t such a close companion of the Master as you were. But maybe this is the reason why I can be a better judge that without the story of his birth our book would be incomplete. People could ask where he had come from. You can’t start the story just saying. Jesus stood up and said this and that’.” “Why can’t we?” was John Mark’s objection. “Important was what he was saying and doing. Of course, he was born. But there is nothing peculiar about the birth of a child.” “You say that because you never gave birth to a child.” They all turned to the direction where these words came from. It was Mary, the mother of the Lord, who spoke. Since the day of the crucifixion she was living in the house of John. John took care of her as the Lord entrusted her to him. She was now past sixty. Sometimes John brought her to this other Mary’s house, the sister of Barnabas and mother of John Mark, that she be not left alone while John was working for the Church. Everybody treated her with profound respect. But she seldom spoke. Just sat at the fireplace and listened how the others spoke about the Gospel. Her face showed an indescribable radiance ■— it was the Gospel her son brought that they were talking about. But now she spoke. Slowly, simple words, her eyes fixed in the far distance, more like telling a dream than a story. “I shall tell you how he was born, if you listen to me. You are so right, Luke, your book would be incomplete ... It was wonderful. . . “You know, it was in the year when Quirinius was governor of Syria. Caesar issued a decree for a general registration. And everybody had to go to his own city. I was engaged to Joseph the Carpenter, in Nazareth. We had to go to Bethlehem since we are from the House of David. Oh, what a journey it was! Especially since it was winter and I was with child.” Mary stopped in her story. “Well, I have to go a little farther back. I must tell you first about my kinswoman Elizabeth, wife of Zechariah the Priest.” And so the story rolled from her lips. The strange story of the birth of John who was later called the Baptist: how Zechariah lost his speech after the angel of the Lord appeared to him and how he regained it after John’s birth. “But then the angel spoke to me, too,” Mary continued. “I just couldn’t believe what he said. That I shall have a son and that he will be great and will be called the Son of the Most High ...” The men in the room listened with bated breath. They did not take any notes. They knew they would remember every word she said. “What could I have said to the angel than ‘let it be to me according to your word.’ You can’t say no to the angel of the Lord. Shortly after the angel spoke to me I visited Elizabeth. She behaved so strangely: as I entered the house she exclaimed: ‘Blessed are you among women and blessing is on the fruit of your womb. Who am I that the mother of my Lord should visit me?’ This is what Elizabeth said. Well, I did not quite understand her but something in me made me pray. You see, this is the strange thing. I was almost a child, yet a mother-to-be. I just sang unto the Lord: ‘My soul magnifies the Lord and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior, for he has regarded the low estate of his handmaiden . . Mary stopped: “I am tired. I’m an old woman, you know. But I shall tell you the rest of the story some other time if you want to hear it.” Tumultuous days came. Paul and Barnabas came from Antioch, James was killed, Peter arrested. Then on the evening when Paul and Barnabas were about to return to Antioch they asked Mary to finish her story. “I left it when we were on our journey to Bethlehem. It was cold and I was in pain. You see, I was about to be delivered. I was scared — where will my son be born? The angel’s prophecies seemed to be so unreal — a warm room, a bed to rest, and a crib for the coming baby: this was all I could think of. And I was so sorry for Joseph. He was so worried. But what could he do? He almost carried the little donkey which I was riding. He was such a gentle man.” Her voice was soft. She must have loved Joseph very much. And the story continued. The end of the journey, the inn, laughing guests making ribald jokes, the impatient innkeeper, the kind servant directing them to the stable with only a few animals in it. How they didn’t mind, at least they were protected from the cold. How Joseph ingenuously converted the manger into a perfect little crib for the newborn baby. And how beautiful the Baby was! “Don’t think we didn’t have well-wishers, too. The shepherds from the fields of Bethlehem. We met them on our way before. Well, they wern’t exactly well-wishers. As they entered the stable they just stood there, gaping at the baby. Then I heard them speaking to each other in excited tones. ‘Look, the child... it is lying in a manger... wrapped in swaddling clothes .. .’ Joseph asked them what they were talking about. And they told the most incredible story. That they saw a miracle in the fields. Not long after we passed by, the heavens opened. First they heard a voice, ‘Do not be afraid; I have good news for you... Today in the city of David a savior is born to you. ..’ Then dazzling light blinded their eyes —■ but they could still bear some heavenly song: ‘Glory to God in highest heaven, and on earth his peace for men on whom his favor rests.’.” “I could hardly take it. But you see, there was my vision of the angel, before. And, wbat I didn’t mention yet to you, I almost forgot, there was the angel speaking to Joseph, too. Joseph was also told about the coming of the child and that we should name him Jesus. But that he will also be called Emmanuel-God with us. And now, the shepherds. Miraculous, amazing — well, just wonderful. And most wonderful it was that I had a son. The little Jesus. Of course, we called him Jesus right away as the angel told us to call him. . . And you said, John Mark, that there is nothing special about the birth of a child?” John Mark cast down his eyes. He couldn’t look at Mary, he just muttered: “I’m sorry, Mary. I didn’t mean it that way . . .” “Of course, you didn’t, John Mark. But wait, the story goes on. We made ourselves at home in the stable. We got some fresh hay and later we could make a fire in the corner. You see, the stable was hewn in a rock, so there was no danger of burning it down.
