And then the fun began.

“I am the Lord’s servant,” Mary answered. 

“May it be to me as you have said.” 

Then the angel left her. --Luke 1:38

I have been "living with" this passage from Luke for a few weeks now. As we enter Advent, the Network of Biblical Storytellers finds itself with opportunities to tell these stories of the season. This one, commonly called the Annunciation, is mine. (For the whole story, click here:Luke 1:26-38 And for more about the Network of Biblical Storytellers, click here: Telling It )

What I am discovering, again and again, is that often I learn more about myself in learning a passage than I do about the person in the story. But I think unmasking my humanness speaks to the humanity of our ancestors in the biblical world, as well.

Here's what is going on: The angel Gabriel has appeared to Mary and informed her that she will be with child, but not by the normal, human process. She has been chosen by the Most High to be the mother to the living God-in-flesh.

I really love some things about this story, things I think Luke got right in his gospel account. 

I like that Mary is troubled when an angel just-- shows up.

And I like that she questions him. "How can this be? I am a virgin, after all!"

But in most readings, after that, Mary suddenly becomes resolute, has no further questions, doubts or worries-- and that, to me, feels all wrong. 

Consider:

Mary is a young girl, betrothed to someone older, as was the custom. When she shows up pregnant and unwed, people will talk. There is no doubt in my mind. People are people, and they will be curious. And when Mary tells her story, there will be wise nods, and elbows to Joseph's ribs ("you sly dog, you!"), and both would be subjected to a whole lot of speculation, degradation, humiliation and more. 

She could even have faced being stoned to death. 

So I found myself, as I worked with this passage, experiencing a more hesitant Mary. Because I know, in my own life, when God shows up with a plan God chooses to use me for, I think too much. And it usually results in questions.

"Oh, God-- are you sure? Seriously?"

(And trust me, God has never asked me to bear God's child. The questions then would be manifold-- and I do mean manifold.)

Mary had to have had more questions than we are privy to. More uncertainties. Sleepless nights pacing the floor, weeping or afraid. And remember: at the beginning, Joseph nearly walked away from her-- until the angel visited him, too.

We seem to want to forget that Mary and Joseph were still human. Just like you-- and especially, like me. 

And because they were human, it's very likely they had questions. Big ones. Lots of 'em.

And--isn't that just like an angel? Gabriel drops the bomb-- and then leaves.

Sheesh.

But I really think there are a couple of things to learn here.

First, Mary should be commended for her faith in God. When the angel left, when the whole world would soon be looking critically in her direction, she held on to God's hand. But-- I think it is only reasonable to suspect there were doubts. And that-- is okay.

I am a big fan of asking questions. We serve an awfully big God who should not be threatened by our asking God to explain. Or clarify. I do not really believe God wants an army of automatons. Obedient, yes. Blindly, unthinkingly obedient-- no.

So as I have learned this passage to tell, I admit: My "Mary" is a little more hesitant as she agrees to be part of this Divine plan. She is still obedient. Just not quite so immediately happy about the whole thing.

Does that make me less faithful? (Does it make Mary less faithful?) I cannot judge that. But I am okay with Mary having questions. 

The important thing, for me, was that her questions did not cause her to lose faith or fall. 

Mary, did you know?

Lord, forgive us when our faith is not blind. Thank you for patiently offering answers, and for never dismissing our questions. Help us to be more like you. Really. Amen