Mary Triptych (Part 2): He Had to Be

The book giveaway contest continues over at Seedlings in Stone until Thursday at 6 p.m. Eastern time. A winner will be picked at random to receive a copy of Scot McKnight’s The Real Mary and have the opportunity to write a guest post for BeliefNet. Just leave a comment here and you’re automatically in the drawing.

Here’s the second of the three “Triptych poems” I’ve written by Mary. The third will be posted on Thursday.

He Had to Be

Passover feast
In the city of peace.
Somber time,
Tinged with joy,
To celebrate salvation,
Deliverance
From the angel of death
In Goshen, in all Egypt.
My Joseph paid the price,
Bought the lamb,
Brought the lamb
To the priests.

Home, to Galilee,
Traveling the day.
I look for the child.
With you, Martha?
Hannah, with you?
With you? With you?
My heart, frozen.
We go back,
My Joseph and I,
Back to the city of peace,
The now feast-less city.

Three days we
Seek, seek
Everywhere.
No child; vanished.
A tiny whisper, then;
A small rumor,
A torrent of reports,
An explosion of wonder
At the child
In the courts of the priests.
Sitting with teachers,
Listening to rabbis,
Questioning priests,
Amazing with his answers,
His truth before truths.
My Joseph and I knew.
Jeshua.
I had to be
In my father’s house,
He said to us I had to be.

A bearded man, he
Amazed crowds
With words, miracles, healings
Of body and soul.
We heard the whispers,
The muted voices,
The low roar,
The rising anger against him.
We came to warn,
To stop,
His brothers and I.
Like everyone else
We wanted to touch and be healed.
And protect.

You are my mother
And brothers, he said
To others.
In his dark eyes,
The eyes of my child,
I saw the depth
Of the infinity
Of the truth he spoke.
And my son was
Not my son.

Triptych with Virgin and Child, Anonymous, Late 17th century, Ethiopian, Walters Art Museum, New York.

A Contest, and the Mary Triptych (Part 1)

Over at Seedlings in Stone, L.L. Barkat is giving away a copy of The Real Mary by Scot McKnight, who makes a Protestant case for Mary with the theological controversies stripped away. Check out what L.L. says about the book and leave a comment here, and you’re automatically in the contest, which will last until next Thursday evening. The winner will also be offered the opportunity to guest post on BeliefNet.

In the meantime, here’s the first of three “Triptych poems” about the mother of Jesus. The second will be posted Monday, and the third next Thursday.

May It Be to Me

Came in a swirl of scented,
Dry wind.
Do not fear, you have found favor.
May it be to me.

The angel did not tell what I would see
Upon my Joseph’s face,
Worse than anger, searing my soul,
Tearing my heart.
Not a rich man, a good man with
Good hands and heart,
He chose me of all Nazareth.
The man every village mother wanted as a son.
Joseph chose me of all in Nazareth.
The Lord chose me of all in Israel.

My Joseph’s eyes.
The angel, I said.
Disbelief on my Joseph’s face,
His hands clenching into fists of pain.
The angel spoke, I said; the Spirit came.

A divorce, my Joseph said.
Quietly; I will not humiliate you,
My Joseph said I love you too much.
He went to weep the hurt
Into the quiet of his mat.

The angel dreamed my Joseph.
Then he knew,
Taking me as wife with joy,
Protecting the child,
Loving the mother.

My Joseph held the baby bathed in blood.
He cut the cord of life to separate life.
He lifted him up.
My tear-stained Joseph set him in my arms
And whispered,
Jeshua.

May it be to me.

Triptych, Bartolomeo Vivarini, 1460s, egg tempera on wood, Metropolitan Museum of New York. The side panels illustrate various scenes in the life of Mary.