The Sharpest Knife in the Drawer
She was fifteen years old and she was pregnant. What was she going to say to her parents? She’d have to tell them but how to pitch the message? And not only her parents. Once the elders of the village found out, there might be real trouble. Last year they dragged a woman caught in adultery to the village square and stoned her to death. Would she be next?
But Mary was by far the sharpest knife in the drawer. As her mother wailed and her father shouted, she drew herself up to her full four-foot height and said, “I did nothing. Nothing. God did it.”
“It was God. I swear. I was kneeling at prayer”—both parent rolled their eyes at this unlikely scenario—“when this angel appeared. Very tall, with golden wings, a shining face and he said I’d have a baby.
“No, it’s true. It’s true. I was so surprised. I said, ‘Hey! Hang on a minute,’ but he insisted it was God’s will. That’s right. And that the baby would be special, a rabbi. More than a rabbi—like a messiah maybe. Anyway,” she snapped her fingers, “I was pregnant. Just like that. And oh yes, he said I was like, special, that I’m a holy person. God chose me.” She pointed to herself. “I’m full of grace.”
Her parents sighed. They were not sure how far to go along with this one but to be on the safe side with the village elders, they quickly married Mary off to an old guy in the neighbourhood, a carpenter, named Joseph.