The Chosen One

By Connie Leonard Geron

If youve ever wondered what Mary of Nazareth was like as a child, here is
her story. She must have been an extraordinary little girl for God to reach down
and choose her to fulfi ll the ancient prophecy about a virgin that would bear a
son, Jesusthe only son of God. Here is the story of Mary, the little girl from
a normal, humble family in the area of Galilee. She lived in the little village
of Nazareth. Her life was simple and ordinary. Her household was fullwith
parents and grandparents, two big brothers and a haughty, gorgeous older sister.
Mary delighted in everyday life and found joy and excitement in a humdrum
existence. She had no idea what was in store for her life. Th ere was no clue that this
seemingly unremarkable young girl would experience a grand adventure worthy
of history books. She was set in place and time to be chosen by God Himself to
become the mother of the Savior of the world.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Dec 12, 2013
• ISBN: 9781493147359

Book preview

Chapter 1

A Day in the Life

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Child, where are you? I need you. Come home. The mother stood outside the back gate of the courtyard and her voice rang out over the dried fields. She turned back toward the walled courtyard and spoke to her own mother, Rachel. It’s not even pretty out there at this season, and that girl is out savoring the day. What does she see that we don’t see?

Anna was complaining about her daughter, Mary. That girl’s head is in the clouds. She sees beauty in everything. The other day I saw her crouched down in the dirt and rocks. She was watching a little line of ants. She was totally mesmerized by that troop of insects. All life seems to entertain her.

The two women walked back across the courtyard to the kitchen area. Mary’s grandmother chuckled and replied, Anna, Anna, you know your daughter is pure as gold. She’s a good worker. She always does her chores happily and looks for more to do besides. Don’t begrudge her a few moments to herself to satisfy her wonder of the world.

I know, I know. She’s the best child I have: obedient, uncomplaining, deliriously happy most of the time. I guess I just want her around more. She cheers me up. I admit it.

Mary’s mother picked up a well-worn wooden bowl and dumped out the risen bread dough onto the floured board. She began kneading the loaf. The grandmother commenced her mending: she had a pile of old robes; there were rips waiting to be sewn up. A stream of sunlight came in through the window opening. Fine lattice work usually covered the opening allowing the family to look outside, but no one could see into the house. At night shutters were latched for privacy and safety. Now with the lattice work opened up, warm rays of morning sunshine illuminated the spot where her needle went in and out of the woven wool.

On the raised hearth right amidst the golden coals was a clay pot full of mutton stew. The scent of it wafted on the warm white steam. That moist fog rose up to float across the room. Beside the hearth was a small clay pot filled with glowing coals. On top of the fiery coals sat a large clay pitcher full of water heating up. The family kept water heating all day long for washing dishes and general cleaning up.

Mary’s older sister came in sleepy-eyed and yawning. It smells good in here. How come we’re having lamb? It’s not a holiday is it?

The family lived in Nazareth; overall it was a poor village set in the hills of north Israel just a few miles southwest of the Sea of Galilee. Maybe one hundred and fifty families shared the hillsides. They grew their own gardens and raised chickens, lambs and goats. Not many of the residents had beef cattle, but a few were lucky enough to afford them. Most of the households got along well with the other families in the little town: it was a matter of survival. Some houses in the village were so close that the friendly owners built bridges from roof to roof. Circumstances frequently arose where, for the mere sake of existence, families in the vicinity quickly offered their loyal support for each other. Misfortune, storms, drought, a death in the family—any of these mishaps or sad events would necessitate support and cooperation of close neighbors.

Most houses were small with mainly one room where the family lived and harbored even the animals in cold weather. Some houses of more well-to-do families had two stories and more rooms. Members of the family slept together in rooms with sleeping mats and bedding lined up in a row. In the summer the family would cook outdoors in the courtyard area. The houses were made of dark mud and stone. Every year the walls had to be re-plastered to fill in cracks caused by sun and storms. The roof of the house was flat; it was covered in hardened clay. Sometimes dirt was hauled up to have an area to grow grass or herbs. Always there was a mandatory short wall around the top of the roof to prevent people and children from falling off. People would sleep up there in the summertime to keep cool. The roof was also used for drying figs, raisins and clothes. A stairway was built on the outside of the house going up to the roof. Mary’s family had such an arrangement and felt blessed to be able to afford a house of such size.

Having lamb for dinner was usually associated with a celebration, a religious sacrifice, or any number of festivals and religious holidays honored by the Jewish nation. Meals containing true, red meat were rare. The usual fare was roasted chicken or vegetable stew, doves, quail and fish. Always there was fish: dried fish from the nearby Sea of Galilee or from the Great Sea to the west. The fish mongers passed through the small village of Nazareth a few times a week to sell the salted, long-lasting fish. The preserved fish were tied in bundles to hang from the ceiling of the house, alongside the roped onions, garlic and herbs.

Mary’s house always smelled so good. There was rosemary, basil, thyme and sage scenting the air. Anna almost always had a stew simmering away on the edge of the fire. Every so often she would lift the lid of pottage to stir the thick stew with her olive wood spoon. The scent of that delectable, fragrant concoction would waft into the rooms and trickle out the open window areas to entice all who walked by.

So even having an old sheep for supper, like today, was an unexpected treat. Usually it meant there would be company for supper. The stew would simmer ever so slowly for so many hours that even the toughest old mutton would fall apart, tender and succulent.

Dianna, we are having mutton stew tonight because your father decided to cull the herd. This old sheep was getting too old to keep up with the rest, so we decided to make him… . our dinner. We’ll count ourselves fortunate and enjoy it, okay? Anna did not mean to be cryptic and short with her daughter; she was just busy.

Anna thought of something that needed doing. Daughter, would you cut up those onions and garlic on the table and put them into the stew? Chop up those turnips also and those herbs and toss them in too.

I just get up and you put me to work. That’s all I’m good for. I might as well be a slave instead of a daughter. Dianna laughed tentatively, testing out the stern look on her mother’s face. She added one more thing. Besides, I hate the smell that clings to my fingers when I cut up onions and garlic. Yuck!

You slept in late and I allowed it. The sun’s been up for two hours already, Diana’s mother remonstrated. Now, get busy and stop complaining.

Dianna fumed, Where’s Mary, anyway? She could help with some of this stuff. Dianna had been trying to kid with her mother in order to hide her true feelings of always being expected to help. She wanted to spend her time fussing with her hair and skin. She’d rather sew bangles and embroider borders on her dress-up robes. Dianna was a beautiful, young woman, and she considered herself ripe for marriage. She wanted to start a family of her own. She was barely fourteen but her body had already developed into a desirable shape. She had last year started her monthly bleeding which tended to make her thoughts and desires lean toward finding a husband who would admire her beauty and love her.

She would have done well to take the short time she had left with her mother and family to learn the ways of housekeeping and cooking from those who knew what they were doing. But Dianna’s beauty led her to hope and expect a marriage of privilege: one that included a somewhat wealthy husband with servants to take care of the drudgery and details that required manual labor.

Dianna pouted as she looked up to gauge her mother’s response to her mild tirade. She could see her mother gazing out of the door as she mumbled, Where’s Mary?

Mary, Mary! You always need Mary. She’s probably out on a hillside contemplating the blue sky and butterflies! Dianna snuffled a laugh as she picked up the succulents and began chopping them for the stew. Why does everyone prefer Mary, Mother? I don’t get it! She’s not even that pretty. She never worries with her looks. What’s so special about her that everyone wants her near them?

Anna looked at her elder daughter with compassion. It was an honest question although obviously tinged with jealousy. Diana desired to be sought out like Mary, but she was not willing to put in the time and effort to make that happen. Anna thought about her younger daughter. It seemed natural for Mary to demonstrate her awareness of the needs around her. She never expected to be recognized for her helpful efforts, nor did she make a show of her work. She just naturally lent a hand where she saw need. Old folk brightened up at the sight of her. Little children clung to her and leaned against her to receive her petting and comfort.

Mary loved learning about anything and everything. She even liked going to the synagogue during the morning school hours. When she was very young she would sit outside the open doorway and strain her ears to hear the priests as they taught the young boys who were privileged by their maleness to learn the scriptures and learn to write on small boards covered in wax. They used a thin pointed piece of wood to make the letters. Rubbing across the wax with a warm cloth would erase the letters and make the area a clean slate again.

Mary’s mind was hungry for knowledge, especially spiritual instruction. She was curious about how things worked. She wanted to explore how plants grew and the manner in which animals lived and bore their young. Eventually, the wise priest, astute enough to recognize a curious mind, allowed her (with permission of her parents) to slip inside, sitting on the side and in the back to listen to his instruction. She sat quietly and took it all in. At first the boys in the class were miffed that she was there in the same room. But soon they accepted her presence and just ignored her. She learned Hebrew. At home she spoke Arabic, but Hebrew was the language of the Jewish people. Their scriptures were written in Hebrew. Mary’s mind soaked it all up. She even was given an old stylus and wooden pen to use.

Anna recalled how Mary had a soft spot in her heart for homeless creatures. Anna tried to discourage her daughter from bringing home wounded birds and abandoned puppies. Even birds would land on Mary’s shoulder without fear. Her quiet, loving spirit invited trust.

Anna turned back to study her gorgeous, elder daughter and smiled at her. She loved her dearly and prayed that only good would come to her. But the difference between her beautiful Dianna and Mary was like night and day. Dianna was focused on herself. She was normal. She would be a good wife and a tolerant mother; but Anna’s heart still warmed toward her younger daughter, Mary.

There was just something about Mary: a freshness and an attitude that was genuine. Her insatiable curiosity was laughable; it had to be satisfied. Her appreciation of life and nature was infectious. Little things mesmerized her, causing her to look as if she were in a trance. She seemed to hold enough love in her heart for everyone and everything.

Anna knew that God had something special in store for her Mary. The child was extraordinary and she didn’t even realize it. Anna shivered at an unknown foreboding. She thought to herself, I just want to protect her and keep her safely beside me, always.

She paused in her kneading, glancing again at the open window to see if Mary was coming up the path. She thought, I know I can’t keep her with me all of her life, but it is my tendency. Anna turned to her sullen daughter as she reluctantly finished her vegetable chopping duties. A love for this daughter flooded over her. She rushed over to envelop the lovely young girl in her arms.

Honey, I love being with you as well. Your sister, Mary, has her head is in the clouds most of the time and sometimes I just worry about her… that’s all.

Dianna dropped the knife onto the table and with onion juices on her fingers she turned quickly to her mother and hugged her. She buried her head into her Mama’s shoulder and gave an involuntary sob—just one. Mama, I love you so much. I wish I were more like Mary because I can see how much you adore her. It’s good to hear you love me too.

There is not one doubt about it, daughter of mine. You are my first daughter, so you are special and wanted. You’re going to be a fine woman some day. I’m going to be very proud of you.

Those words warmed Dianna’s heart and she slowly disengaged herself from her mother’s arms and returned to her chore. Her need for recognition was assuaged.

Anna heard something outside and turned her head toward the window. There she came: Mary with tousled hair blowing in the breeze. She had on one of her old chemises with her shaggy everyday robe opening in the front and half off one shoulder. She was clutching a handful of yellow wildflowers and a little kitten was chasing her.

Go back to your own home, little kitty. There is no more room here. My mama won’t allow you to stay. She stopped and knelt down to the kitten, and it tumbled onto her lap. Mary kissed it and scooted it on its way as she slipped through the kitchen door.

Anna’s heart warmed with a release of gratitude—Mary was home. She tried not to worry about her child wandering the hills in search of adventure. In the area around Nazareth things were relatively safe. But bandits and discontented Jews, rebelling against the Roman rule of Israel, lived in the caves that readily dotted the hills around there. These homeless men hid in the caves and came out to steal and plunder. They were hungry. Sometimes the outlaws and dissidents were planning their next attack on the Roman soldiers that patrolled the area. Anna had warned Mary to watch out for these sorts of men and to keep away from them. Mary could run like the wind and knew the area so well. Mary would smile at her mother and assure her that there were angels protecting her.

Don’t worry Mother. My Father in heaven won’t let anything happen to me.

Anna tried to believe that, but she still had visions of the morning their family was rudely awakened by the frightening clop of horses’ hooves as a line of Roman soldiers rode through the village laughing loudly, banging on doors, demanding food and taxes. They set an example for the village folk by beating up one helpless man who protested weakly. Anna remembered the horror of that morning. One soldier had chased down a frightened young woman and pulled her onto his lap as he sat on the horse. He took her for a wild ride of terror. She screamed and fought his advances as he pulled at her clothes and tried to kiss her. Finally he dumped her at the feet of her mother and galloped away in a fit of raucous laughter. Anna knew there was danger out there in the hills, but the inexpressible joy on Mary’s face as she related her adventures made Anna hold her protests and allow the child freedom to wander and explore. Soon enough she would be too old to be allowed this freedom.

Mary placed the fragrant wildflowers in a vase and dipping water out of the water cistern, she filled the vase to keep the flowers fresh. She sat this cheerful bouquet on the table among the wooden bowls of onions and root vegetables. One warm loaf of bread was cooling on a cloth. As Mary washed her hands in the basin of water, she called attention to that artistic scene on the table. Look Grandmother, isn’t Dianna so beautiful with the vegetables, flowers and bread on the table? I would like to keep that picture in my mind forever. Mary dried her hands on a towel and turned to her mother. I’m so hungry. She cast a look of pleading for permission and Anna nodded. She scooped up a handful of dates and walnuts that sat in a wooden bowl on the sideboard. She began to relish every bite. Mmmm, Mother, this is so yummy. If you want food to taste delicious all you have to do is get really hungry… . then everything tastes good, even blades of sour grass.

You’re this hungry because you’ve been up since before the sun popped up over the hills. Why don’t you sleep a little longer?

Oh Mama, I hate wasting part of a day. One of the most precious things to me is being present at the birth of a new day. It is peaceful, quiet and gorgeous.

Dianna had her arms crossed and was looking on her younger sister with disdain. I know why you got up so early. You just wanted to get out of helping with the early morning chores, that’s all.

Mary opened her mouth to speak, but her mother spoke up instead. Dianna, while you were sleeping this morning, Mary was quietly sweeping the inner courtyard. She fed the chickens and gathered the eggs. She brought in the day’s wood for cooking and then she shouldered that big urn over there and walked to the town’s well and filled it. After carrying it home, she ate a bit of breakfast and requested some time to walk. Would you have me refuse her that hour of contemplative solitude?

Dianna was ashamed of her accusations of Mary avoiding work. She already knew it was not true. Mary was always doing something for the family. Actually she resented that more than she would have if Mary had been lazy and eluded work.

Yeah, I know; she’s perfect. The whole family adores her. I try my hardest and I never get this kind of attention. She pouted again as she sat down and turned her face to the fire.

Anna shook her head and wiped her floury hands on her apron. Dianna, I wish you would not say things like that. You are a good girl, too. I don’t expect all of my children to be alike. We’re all different. Each of us has strengths in various areas. You are a unique daughter and that makes me happy. You are fine just being Dianna.

Dianna, with arms crossed defiantly, turned her head to look her mother in the eyes. What’s special about me? Tell me that.

Mother, can I tell her how she is special to me? Mary walked over to Dianna after she got the nod of permission from her mother.

Alright, Mary, you go ahead. She’s in one her moods today, feeling sorry for herself. I guess that’s normal with her becoming a woman now.

Diana looked up at the rafters still with arms crossed and avoided looking at her younger sister. Tears were stinging her eyes. She was truly distressed. Mary stood before her and reached out a hand to move a strand of Dianna’s glossy dark hair back behind her ear. She gently lifted a hand from the crossed arms and held it in both of hers.

Oh, my dear sister; I love you so much. You are my big sister, my older sister.

Oh good: I’m big and old; that surely makes me feel better, Dianna said with a chuckle in her voice. A slight softening appeared on her countenance.

Mary laughed. That didn’t come out right. I wish I could use words and make them come out right to say what I really mean. Maybe I’ll learn as I get older. What I was trying to say to you was this. I look up to you. You are so beautiful and people smile just to look at you. I am learning from you, my Sister. I know I’m sort of strange and do crazy things. I don’t know why I’m this way—I just am. But whatever I do, I never mean to make you feel bad about yourself. You are my example and I adore you.

Dianna studied her younger sister’s eyes for a few seconds before answering. You really mean that, don’t you? Dianna reached a finger up and wiped away a stray tear from her cheek. She stood up and melded herself into the welcoming arms of her little sister. Mary, I do love you. I wish I were just like you.

Don’t say that. You are who you are. God made us all in the way he wanted us to be. Mary sat at the table nibbling on some raw turnips. Come sit here with me. The two girls held hands and Mary confided in her sister, I like you just the way you are. It would be boring if we were all alike.

Dianna laughed and glanced at her mother and her grandmother. That’s nice of you to say, but I think my family would like me to be a little more like you. She looked furtively at her mother, beseeching her with her eyes to say something in defense of her.

Anna sighed and huffed slightly. Come here my beautiful daughter. Her eldest daughter was needy in this way. It was a sign that she was not that satisfied with herself.

Dianna separated herself from her little sister and rushed to her mother’s arms. As soon as she was enfolded in those strong arms her sobs came forth. Her mother petted her head and consoled her. Dear Girl, I love you so much. I don’t want to change you into someone else. You’re delightful. But all of us can improve in some ways.

Even Mary? Dianna asked pointedly as she glanced back at her sister eating the vegetables. Mary looked up with a sprig of parsley hanging out of the side of her mouth.

Anna looked at her younger daughter and a grin came across her face. Yes, even Mary. Look at that tousled hair going every which way. See that face with smudges of dirt on it. We’ll have to soak that old gown to get the grass stains out of it. Anna smiled with acceptance shining on her countenance. What did you do, Mary? Were you sliding down the hillsides again?

I love doing that, yes; but no, these stains came from wrestling with a lamb who wandered away from the flock. He was crying so loud in fear. He was stuck among some big rocks. I was helping him to get free and he was struggling so hard that I fell down in the grass. What a darling lamb he was: so pure white.

Did you lead him back to the flock? Anna questioned.

I carried that little, wiggling lamb all the way to the shepherd. You remember Zebediah? He was taking a nap while the sheep grazed. He hadn’t noticed the lamb’s escape. Even his old sheep dog was tired and was sleeping beside him.

That Zebediah is not too bright. I always wonder why they give him the responsibility of caring for those sheep.

Mother, Zeb is okay. He loves his sheep and usually watches out for them carefully and diligently. When I roused him by handing him that ornery lamb, he grabbed that little mutt and almost cried over the near loss of him. He had been up all night guarding the flock from a mountain lion that has been seen in these parts. This morning it was so quiet and sunny that the sheep were not restless. While they were enjoying all the fresh grass and the calm water, he laid back to take a little rest and that warm sun must have lulled him to sleep. Mother, please do not speak of this to anyone who would get him in trouble.

Don’t worry; I won’t say a word, Mary. Anna rubbed olive oil on her perfectly formed mound of dough and sprinkled it with some sea salt that had been carried up from the Dead Sea. She added a sprinkle of cumin and coriander seed. She carried the big stone-shaped dough out to the courtyard and placed it in the special oven for baking. The bread oven was rounded on top and had coals in the bottom with a high shelf on which to bake the bread. Any hot cooking that could be done outside would keep the kitchen cooler. Walking back into the kitchen she added, He’s just fortunate that you were there to rescue and return that valuable lamb to him.

That is just what he said. He told me that this particular lamb is very important to the owner of the flock. That precious, innocent lamb, so perfectly made without one blemish is going to be the sacrificial lamb that the family will carry to Jerusalem for Passover week. Mother, that baby lamb will be sacrificed on the altar at the temple. That makes me so sad. He’ll never get to live a good long life. No more romping in the field. He’ll never get to be a big sheep.

I know, Mary. It is sad. You always question things that we have no control over.

But why, Mother; why do the animals have to be killed and their blood spilt on the altar? It seems such a gruesome, unfair ritual.

Anna looked stunned at her daughter’s audacity to question the law. Mary, it is best that you just accept the things of our religion. You must not question the Torah! It is the holy word of God. Besides that, you are a woman in the making. Women are not allowed to speak out their opinions about such things. You’d better be careful whom you question like this.

Alright Mother, but can’t you please tell me why there has to be the sacrifices? It just seems barbaric to me.

Anna and Rachel gave each other a knowing glance. Rachel, the grandmother, nodded and said, Anna, you were just like Mary when you were her age. You questioned things too. I see nothing wrong with trying to understand the why of our rituals and laws. Tell her why the innocent, pure animals must sometimes be slaughtered. Tell her, Anna.

Anna pulled in a big breath and let it out in a rush. She turned to her curious daughter. "Mary, God is holy. He cannot bear to be in the presence of sin; and those who do wrong are not worthy to be part of his family. There is no way for a sinful person to join himself to Jehovah. The sad thing is, we all do wrong now and again: some more than others. We still want to be in God’s fold. We love Him and need our Creator. So God made a ritual for us to observe periodically so we can be reminded of the way forgiveness happens and how we can be right again with Him. For God to forgive us there has to be a blood offering of a pure and innocent being coupled with real repentance for sin. The ritual of sacrifice that we Jewish people do is really just a picture of the salvation God will supply to us one day. We are made right with God by showing our faith in the perfect sacrifice that will come in the future. Through all the many centuries of our history, our forefathers have held fast to the faith that God will forgive us with a very special blood sacrifice. We don’t know when that eternal and real sacrifice will happen. So when we do the ritual of sacrifice at our