Women who begat Jesus: Mary

Women who begat Jesus: Mary

The genealogy of Jesus, according to the gospel of Matthew, continues:

and that man the father of a man,

and that man the father of a man,

and that man the father of a man,

and that man the father of a man,

and that man the father of a man,

and that man the father of a man,

and that man the father of a man,

and that man the father of a man,

and that man the father of a man,

and that man the father of a man,

and that man the father of a man,

and that man the father of a man,

and that man the father of a man and his brothers,

at the time of the deportation to Babylon.

And after the deportation to Babylon:

that man was the father of a man,

and that man the father of a man,

and that man the father of a man,

and that man the father of a man,

and that man the father of a man,

and that man the father of a man,

and that man the father of a man,

and that man the father of a man,

and that man the father of a man,

and that man the father of a man,

and that man the father of a man,

and that man the father of a man the husband of Mary, a woman,

of whom Jesus was born, who is called the Messiah.

Something you may not know about my name, Mary: when Ruth’s mother-in-law Naomi returned home to Bethlehem after losing her husband and sons, her grief made her so unrecognizable that the women of Bethlehem had to ask, “Is this Naomi?!” 

She responded, “No longer call me Naomi”—which means “pleasant.” “Call me Mara”—which means “bitter”—“for God has dealt bitterly with me. I went away full, but God has brought me back empty. Why call me Naomi when God has dealt harshly with me and brought calamity upon me?” (Ruth 1:19-21)

Well, my name, Mary, in the Hebrew language is the same as Naomi’s new name, Mara. It means “bitter” or “grieved.”  And yes, I was very bitter when I first discovered I was pregnant, without a husband.  Joseph, my betrothed, had every right to have me put to death. Like all the women before me, and many after me, I had no rights or protection anywhere on this earth.

According to one gospel community’s version of my story (Matthew 1), an angel of God came to Joseph in a dream and said, “Do not be afraid to take Mary as your wife, for the child conceived in her is from the Holy Spirit. She will bear a son, and you are to name him Jesus, for he will save his people from their sins.”

God is still saving us from the sins of patriarchy.

Women who begat Jesus: Bathsheba

Women who begat Jesus: Bathsheba

The genealogy of Jesus, according to the gospel of Matthew, continues: and that man the father of a man, and that man the father of a man, and that man was the father of a man by the wife of Uriah.

My story, remembered in 2 Samuel 11 and 12, is so shameful—I am not even mentioned by name, much less have a book named after me like Ruth.

My husband was Uriah the Hittite. He was away fighting in a war when the king David spied me taking a bath and decided he had to have me. So the king ordered my husband Uriah to be sent to the front of the battle where he was killed. The king then took me to be his wife.

From that point on the family of King David turned into a soap opera, with siblings conspiring against and killing each other, one tragedy after another. But there are good reasons why these terrible stories exist in the Bible:

1. They reveal the way people really lived and how folks were just as bad or helpless and in need of divine intervention back then as they are now.

2. These stories of abuse and its horrible consequences—they indict all persons in positions of power who have ever committed evil, including powerful individuals today.

3. And these remembrances—as tragic as they are—serve as memorials for every un-named person in them.

But God knows who I am.

Women who begat Jesus: Ruth

Women who begat Jesus: Ruth

The genealogy of Jesus, according to the gospel of Matthew, continues: and that man the father of a man by Ruth, a woman.

Tamar’s story is found in the book of Genesis (Chapter 38).  Rahab’s story is in the book of Joshua (Chapters 2 and 6). My story is recorded in the book named after me, the book of Ruth (New Revised Standard Version).

Like Tamar, I too lost my first husband. He had come with his father and mother and brother from the country of Judah, to my country called Moab, to escape a great famine. The father died, and then, after both of the sons had married Moabite women, they also died. That left me and my mother-in-law Naomi and my sister-in-law Orpah (whose claim to fame is her namesake, Oprah Winfrey—called “Oprah” because that’s how it was spelled at her birth. But that’s another story).

And like Tamar, we women were considered nothing without husbands or sons. So our mother-in-law Naomi begged each of us to return to our families—since we were Moabites, not Israelites—and start over. Orpah went, but I would not. I told my mother-in-law:

            “Do not press me to leave you or to turn back from following you!

            Where you go, I will go; where you lodge, I will lodge;

            your people shall be my people, and your God my God. 

            Where you die, I will die—there will I be buried.

            May God do thus and so to me, and more as well,

            if even death parts me from you!”

  

So Naomi and I traveled together to her homeland Judah, to the town of Bethlehem, which means “house of bread.”  We arrived just at the beginning of the barley feast. Many people were working in the fields, and I asked if I could work behind those doing the reaping and glean among the ears of grain, that is, take the leftovers. I was allowed, and I worked from sunup until sundown without even taking a break.

Well, the owner of one field was a relative of my mother-in-law; his name was Boaz. He saw me working hard and allowed me to work in his field—in fact, he pretty much ordered me not to work in any other field or leave his field. He also said he had ordered the young men working in the fields not to bother me. And I was given permission to drink water whenever I was thirsty.

When I asked this generous man why he found favor in me, especially since I was a foreigner, he said he had heard all that I had done for my mother-in-law, and he hoped my deeds would be rewarded by the God of Israel under whose wings I had come for refuge. He then invited me to eat with him.

When I told Naomi this, she was delighted. She had me wash and anoint myself and put on my best clothes and go to Boaz. After he had finished eating he laid down. I then quietly went and uncovered his feet (a euphemism for genitals in the Hebrew language) and also laid down.

In the middle of the night he awoke with a start and discovered me lying “down there.” He asked who I was. I reminded him I was Ruth, Naomi’s foreign daughter-in-law. He then blessed me and before dawn sent me back to Naomi with much barley.

Boaz then arranged to buy the land which Naomi was selling, and with it he acquired me—even though I was a Moabite woman—and made me his wife. And when we had a child, Naomi was its nurse. 

Women who begat Jesus: Rahab

Women who begat Jesus: Rahab

The genealogy of Jesus, according to the gospel of Matthew, continues:

and that man the father of a man,

and that man the father of a man,

and that man the father of a man,

and that man the father of a man,

and that man the father of a man,

and that man the father of a man by Rahab, a woman.

Unlike Tamar who pretended to be a prostitute and did so only once, I never pretend and do so time and time again.

My name is Rahab, and my story is recounted in Joshua 2 and 6:22-25 (New Revised Standard Version). I am a real harlot, a woman who plays any role a man wants—for a price. Perhaps that is why two spies for the Israelites were sent to my house in Jericho, for they too were operating under false identities, and as the saying goes, It takes one to know one. Or in this case, two.

When the king of Jericho was told that some Israelites were in my place, he ordered me to bring them out, saying they were spies checking out our land. But instead I took the two men up to the roof and hid them amid the stalks of flax up there.

Then I told the king, “True, the men came to me, but I did not know where they came from. And when it was time to close the city gate at dark, the men went out. Where they went I do not know. Hurry and you can overtake them.” So the king’s officers left in pursuit of the spies, and the city gate shut behind them.

Before going to sleep that night, I went up to the roof and told the spies, “I know that God has given you the land, and that dread of you has fallen on us, and that all the inhabitants of the land melt in fear before you. For we have heard how God dried up the water of the Red Sea before you, when you came out of Egypt, and how you utterly destroyed two kings since then. There is no courage left in any of us because of you. Your God is indeed God in heaven above and on earth below. Now then, since I have dealt kindly with you, swear to me in the name of God that you in turn will deal kindly with my family. Give me a sign of good faith that you will spare my family and deliver our lives from death.”

The Israelite spies responded, “Our life for yours! If you do not reveal our secret plans, then we will deal kindly and faithfully with you when God gives us the land.” 

Well, keeping secrets is at the heart of my business!

My house is situated on the outer side of the city wall—I live within the wall itself—so I was able to let the spies escape through my window and down by a rope. I told them where to run, away from their pursuers, hide there three days until the king’s officers returned, and then be on their way. 

The spies made me promise—in order for my family to survive—to tie a crimson red cord in my window and for all of us to gather safely in my house and not breathe a word to anyone about their planned invasion.

The rest of the story is suitable for singing in Sunday School: “Joshua fit the battle of Jericho, and the walls come a-tumblin’ down.”

I and my family lived to tell the whole tale.

Women who begat Jesus: Tamar

Women who begat Jesus: Tamar

The genealogy of Jesus, according to the gospel of Matthew, begins: A man was the father of a man, and that man the father of a man, and that man the father of a man and his brothers, and that man the father of a man and a man by Tamar, a woman.

My name is Tamar which means “date palm,” and like the fruit of palm trees, which grow in the desert and serve for weary travelers as landmarks for oases of water and offer them cool shade and protective covering, I am one offshoot of my family tree who serves for travelers on a spiritual journey as a symbol of courage amid desperation and betrayal.

My story is remembered in Genesis 38. I was the wife of Er, the firstborn of Judah, but Er was wicked in the sight of God, and so God put him to death. Then, as was the custom in our time and land, my father-in-law Judah told his next son, Onan, to produce a child by me for his dead brother. But since he knew the child would not be considered his, Onan instead spilled his seed on the ground. What he did was displeasing in the sight of God, and so he was put to death also.

Then my father-in-law Judah told me to return to my father’s house and wait until his last son, Shelah, was grown up. Only Judah was afraid that God would put Shelah to death, like his brothers, and so he forgot his promise to me. And in our culture, a woman who does not have a husband to protect her or sons to care for her might as well be a prostitute.

Well, that’s exactly what my father-in-law thought he saw—a prostitute—when he saw me—only he didn’t recognize me—sitting on the side of the road with a veil covering my face. Not knowing I was his daughter-in-law to whom he had broken his promise, he propositioned me. When he offered to pay me with a goat, I asked for his signet, cord and staff as collateral, which he gave me. Then my father-in-law came in to me, and I conceived a child by him.

After that one time, I took off the veil and went back to being a widow. When my father-in-law sent the goat in exchange for his signet, cord and staff, he was told there was no prostitute. Believing he had been robbed he let it go so that he would not be laughed at.

But when my father-in-law heard I had played the role of a prostitute and was pregnant, he did not laugh; he ordered me to be burned to death.

It was then that I displayed the signet, cord and staff and announced to everyone, “These belong to the man who made me pregnant.” 

           

Well, my father-in-law had no choice but to acknowledge that they were his. He was even moved to say, “She is more in the right than me since I did not give her to my last son.”

Never again, with me, did my father-in-law lie—in either sense of the word.