Read: Luke 2: 1–20

So [the shepherds] went with haste and found Mary and Joseph, and the child lying in the manger. When they saw this, they made known what had been told them about this child; and all who heard it were amazed at what the shepherds told them. But Mary treasured all these words and pondered them in her heart (Luke 2:16–19, NRSV).

This is the fifth and final installment of our Women in Waiting series which has featured the women named in Jesus genealogy in Matthew 1:1-17. In today’s imagined interview, Jesus’ mother, Mary, reflects on the events surrounding the first Christmas.

Carol: I have so many questions, Mary. It’s hard to know where to start.

Mary: That’s pretty much how I felt about that part of my life, too.

C: Is that what Luke meant when he said that you “treasured all these words and pondered them in [your] heart”?

M: Yes, I think so. It was a balance, you see. Every bit of good news gave rise to so many questions. I had a lot to ponder in those days.

C: When I was little I always thought it said that you “pounded” them in your heart.

M: Well, that’s sort of how it felt sometimes! From the moment the angel Gabriel showed up with his big announcement, it was almost too much to process. Do you know how your mind can sort of sub-divide? Part of me was thinking, “Wow, I’m going to be the mother of the Messiah!” And the other part was thinking, “But wait, I’m a virgin. Does he not know how this works?”

C: I noticed that the first thing you did after getting the news from Gabriel was to go visit Elizabeth. Was that visit an attempt to get your head around what had happened?

M: Absolutely. First of all, it confirmed Gabriel’s story. (Not that you should really have to confirm an angel’s story, but seriously, it was a lot to take in.) Second, Elizabeth was the one person I could talk to who “got it.” We spent a lot of time talking about what it meant—not just for us personally, but for the whole of creation.

C: You must have done a lot of “pondering” when you and Joseph couldn’t find a hotel room.

M: That’s a polite way to put it. I have to admit, I prayed some very candid prayers that night.

C: Say more about that.

M: Well, I mean really. Gabriel could talk all he wanted to about how “highly favored” I was, but when I had to give birth in a stable, I didn’t feel particularly favored. Thank goodness for Joseph!

C: Yes, he was what our British friends would call a “brick.”

M: No question about that. He was always there for me. I have to admit, though, when I was lying there on a blanket spread over the hay panting and pushing, I had some moments when I wondered whether God had abandoned me. This was hardly the entrance anyone had imagined for the Messiah. For that matter, it wasn’t what I had imagined for my introduction to motherhood either.

C: How did your feelings change when the shepherds showed up?

M: Well, my first thought was, “For pity’s sake, don’t wake the baby!” But when they told us what the angels had said, it confirmed that I wasn’t crazy. Does that sound heretical?

C: Not at all; it sounds human.

M: It’s just that going into labor on the road and then the whole “no room at the inn” thing had made me start to think I’d dreamed it all. When the shepherds showed up I began to believe again.

C: Did your faith ever waver after that?

M: Are you kidding? It wavered every day—especially at the foot of the cross! (I’ll be pondering that in my heart for all eternity.) But I guess I’ve learned not to fear the questions. There’s a sense in which questions are holy ground. Sometimes, they are where God meets us. Maybe that’s why they call him “Emmanuel”—God with us.

C: Thanks, Mary. You’ve given us a lot to ponder.

Ponder: How does Mary’s story empower you? Convict you?

Pray: Meet us in the midst of our questions this Christmas, Emmanuel.

Read: 2 Samuel 11:1–12:26; 1 Kings 1

It happened, late one afternoon, when David rose from his couch and was walking about on the roof of the king’s house, that he saw from the roof a woman bathing; the woman was very beautiful. David sent someone to inquire about the woman. It was reported, “This is Bathsheba daughter of Eliam, the wife of Uriah the Hittite.” So David sent messengers to get her, and she came to him, and he lay with her. (Now she was purifying herself after her period.) Then she returned to her house. The woman conceived; and she sent and told David, “I am pregnant” (2 Samuel 11:2–5, NRSV).

This is the fourth installment of our Women in Waiting series which features the women named in Jesus genealogy in Matthew 1:1-17. Today’s reflection features Bathsheba as she looks back on her life from her perspective as queen mother.

The following is an imagined interview between “C” (Carol) and “B” (Bathsheba).

C: Do you mind if I ask you about the events recorded in 2 Samuel 11? I realize it might be difficult for you to talk about….

B: I can deal with “difficult” if it gives me a chance to tell my side of the story. You wouldn’t believe the things that people have said about me over the years. Talk about blaming the victim!

C: All right, then. Let’s start with the knock on the door. What did you think when you opened the door and saw the messengers from the palace?

B: My first thought was that my husband, Uriah, had been killed in battle. He was one of the king’s elite soldiers, and I knew the fighting had been intense. He’d been gone for some time.

C: Didn’t you think it was strange that the messengers asked you to go with them to the palace?

B: Well, they didn’t “ask.” Put yourself in my position. The royal messengers show up at the door. What am I supposed to do? Refuse to go? I had no reason to resist, and even if I had, it wouldn’t have done much good.

C: When did you realize the true reason for the summons?

B: David’s intentions were pretty clear right away. He tried to flatter me first, saying he had seen me taking my ritual bath….

C: Do you mind if I ask you about that? Some people have suggested that you’re a bit of an exhibitionist. I remember seeing a Sunday school picture of you bathing on the roof….

B: Oh, for pity’s sake. David was the one on the roof; I was in the privacy of my own courtyard. Am I an exhibitionist or is he a peeping tom?

C: Fair point. If it’s any comfort, newer translations make that much clearer. But once people get an image in their head….

B: Yes, and I suppose it is quite an image. Although what they were thinking when they decided to feature it in your Sunday school curriculum is beyond me.

C: I suspect it was written by men.

B: Yes, well, men have had a field day at my expense.

C: You must have been terrified when you discovered that you were pregnant.

B: Terrified doesn’t begin to describe it. Uriah hadn’t been home for ages, so anyone who had been paying attention would know that he wasn’t the father. Do you know what the punishment for “adultery” was in those days?

C: It was a capital offense as I recall. But what you experienced wasn’t adultery. Wasn’t there an exception for rape?

B: First of all, thank you for using that word. I’ve waited a long time to hear someone name that. But you’re naïve if you think I could have convinced anyone that it was rape. We’re talking about the word of a woman against the word of a king. So, I sent and told David that I was pregnant. It was a long shot, but I guess I hoped he would repent and take responsibility for what he had done.

C: But that’s not what happened, is it?

B: No. His way of dealing with the “problem” was to try to entice Uriah home to sleep with me so that the paternity question could be obscured. The only trouble with that plan was that it assumed that Uriah would be as morally compromised as he was.

C: What do you mean by that? What would have been wrong with Uriah spending the night with you when he was back in Jerusalem?

B: Soldiers had really strict rules back then. He would never have slept with me while his “band of brothers” was out on the battle field.

C: Uriah really comes out looking much more honorable than King David does in this story.

B: I’m glad to hear you acknowledge that. When it became clear that David’s “Plan A” wasn’t going to work, he moved on to “Plan B,” which was to make sure Uriah was killed in battle. Notice that this plan was based on the assumption that Uriah would be too honorable to read his own death warrant.

C: I have always found that detail particularly chilling. I’m so sorry—not only about the loss of your husband, but for all you endured leading up to that loss.

B: Thank you…but it didn’t end there, did it? The next think I knew, I was married to my rapist—who also happened to be the man who murdered my husband.

C: I don’t even want to ask you what that must have been like.

B: It’s not a time in my life that I like to dwell on. Although I suppose David could have just abandoned me to my fate, so I have to give him some credit. It was unimaginably painful, though, especially when the baby died. I’ve never felt so alone in my life.

C: Again—I’m so sorry. Did things improve at all after the prophet Nathan confronted David?

B: Well, I did take some satisfaction in that episode. For one thing, Nathan’s parable about the “little ewe lamb” pretty much proved my innocence. It makes no more sense to blame me for what happened than it would to blame the little ewe lamb!

C: Good point. But what did you think of David’s repentance?

B: Again, I don’t want to gloss over David’s sins. Even the Bible doesn’t do that! But I have to give David credit for admitting his sins. At least he wasn’t self-deceived. There’s nothing more dangerous than a leader who is self-deceived.

C: I agree with you there. I won’t say how I know. Is there anything else you’d like to add—just for the record?

B: I guess I would just like to point out that my life was never easy. If you read the rest of my story you’ll see that. The palace was not a safe place. At one point I was afraid my son Solomon and I were going to join the list of succession casualties.

C: I’m so glad you didn’t—especially in light of the fact that you both ended up in Jesus’ genealogy.

B: Maybe you can fill me in on that. All I can say is that God moves in mysterious—and often painful—ways.

Ponder: How does Bathsheba’s story empower you? Convict you?

Pray: Forgive us for blaming the victim and for abusing power for selfish ends.

Read: Ruth 1–4

So Boaz took Ruth and she became his wife. When they came together, the LORD made her conceive, and she bore a son. Then the women said to Naomi, “Blessed be the LORD, who has not left you this day without next-of-kin; and may his name be renowned in Israel! He shall be to you a restorer of life and a nourisher of your old age; for your daughter-in-law who loves you, who is more to you than seven sons, has borne him.” (Ruth 4:13-15, NRSV).

This is the third installment of our Women in Waiting series which features the women named in Jesus’ genealogy in Matthew 1:1-17. Ruth is the only one of the four Old Testament women who gets an entire book named after her. Since the book is only four chapters long, I’m hoping you will read it all. It masquerades as a charming love story, but don’t be fooled. There’s a lot riding on this little romance….

The following is an imagined interview between “C” (Carol) and “R” (Ruth).

C: Ruth, your story has a happy ending, but there are a lot of really tense moments leading up to that ending. One of them is your decision to stay with your mother-in-law, Naomi, even after she orders you and your sister-in-law to go home to Moab.

R: Strangely enough, I don’t think of that as being especially tense. The outcome was never in doubt from my perspective. I was not about to let Naomi go back to Bethlehem without me.

C: Weren’t you worried about your reception? You were from Moab, after all, and “foreigners” are not always received well in any age.

R: That had crossed my mind, of course, but love knows no boundaries. I loved Naomi. We’d been through a lot together, and I wasn’t about to let her go on alone. Actually, the thing I remember about that moment was how difficult it was to defy a direct order. My sister-in-law, Orpah, was the obedient one.

C: Good point. Commentators are often unfair to her.

R: If it’s “tense moments” you want to hear about, I’d start with the remainder of the trip to Bethlehem. I mean really. I make this powerful declaration of love and loyalty….

C: Yes! The “where you go, I will go” speech!

1. That’s the one. I expected Naomi to fall into my arms weeping with gratitude. But no! She turned on her heel and walked away. And not a word all the way to Bethlehem!

C: I’ve had road-trips like that. They’re really uncomfortable.

R: Then when we got to Bethlehem and the women came out to greet us, all she could do was go on about how bitter she was. I mean, in a way I don’t blame her. I was bitter, too. But that line about how “I went away full, but the LORD has brought me back empty,” was really hard to hear. It was all I could do not to elbow her in the ribs and ask, “What am I? Chopped liver???”

C: It must have been exasperating. Still, I think people of my day would describe Naomi as being clinically depressed.

R: Whatever you call it, I knew I couldn’t just sit around and wait for her to make a life for us. She was practically catatonic. That’s why I decided to go gleaning. It was that or sit around and starve.

C: I have to ask: Did you have any idea that that wheat field belonged to Boaz?

R: Of course not. Read carefully. “As it happened” means that it was a kind of divine coincidence. You’d call it Providence.

C: Thanks. I’ve always thought so, but I wanted to hear you say it. You wouldn’t believe how many commentators call you a gold-digger.

R: Oh, I’m not surprised at all. Somebody should teach those commentators to read.

C: What about the infamous “threshing floor affair” in chapter three? Talk about tense moments!

R: I don’t deny that it was tense. But I would point out that I was following orders at that point. Naomi had come back to life when she saw that someone (Boaz, as it turned out) had been kind to me. I think she took it as a sign that God had not abandoned us after all. But after a while, she got restless, and the next thing I knew, she was packing me off to the threshing floor with orders to lie down next to Boaz and “uncover his feet….”

C: Everyone wants to know about that part! Tell us: are we talking feet with toes or “feet” without? His genitals, in other words….

R: Wouldn’t you like to know. Let’s just say that either way, the message was clear.

C: Talk about tense moments!

R: You don’t know the half of it. And then, when he pulled that rabbit out of the hat about the existence of a “nearer kinsman….”

C: So, help me to understand. That meant that there was someone else in line ahead of Boaz who was responsible to take care of you and Naomi.

R: Exactly. The minute Boaz mentioned the nearer kinsman, I understood so much. Naomi had said that Boaz was next-of-kin, but now I find out that he isn’t! I would never have agreed to the threshing floor scheme if I had known that.

C: Do you think Naomi knew about the nearer kinsman?

R: Of course she did. It was her own family tree, for pity’s sake. But she sent me anyway. I guess she thought she needed to force God’s hand—or at least give God a bit of a nudge. Believe me, I had some strong words for her when I got back from the threshing floor.

C: Not so fast. Boaz kept you there until morning. We want details!

R: No comment…except to say that the nearer kinsman might as well have been sleeping between us.

C: Fair point. So, Boaz sent you back to Naomi empty-handed?

R: Of course not. Read carefully! He was a really kind person. He sent me back loaded with grain and even more importantly, with a promise that he would speak to the nearer kinsman the next morning. I knew I could trust him. After all, he had known about the existence of the nearer kinsman all along. That proved that his previous generosity to us had been completely out of the goodness of his heart. He knew there was nothing in it for him.

C: Say more about Boaz’ character. He seemed to be the only one in Bethlehem who saw you for who you really were.

R: Yes, to everyone else I was “that Moabite woman.” But Boaz saw me through the prism of my love and loyalty to Naomi.

C: Where do you think he learned to see beyond boundaries?

R: I’ve always suspected that it had a lot to do with his own family history. His mother was Rahab, whom you interviewed last week. And if you go back a few generations more, you’ll see Tamar’s name; she was another faithful foreigner who found her way into the family tree.

C: Yes, we interviewed her, too! The presence of those two women must have had a powerful influence on Boaz’ family culture—not to mention his DNA.

R: I can’t speak to the “DNA” thing, but you’re right about the rest. I would like to point out that your own culture could learn a few things from “faithful foreigners.” From what I gather, you’re having a few tense moments of your own.

C: Touché. We’ll remember you and Rahab and Tamar the next time we’re given an opportunity to welcome a stranger.

Ponder: How does Ruth’s story empower you? Convict you?

Pray: Help us to see beyond boundaries, gracious God, and to welcome others as you have welcomed us.

Read: Joshua 2 & 6:22-25

“As soon as we heard it, our hearts melted, and there was no courage left in any of us because of you. The LORD your God is indeed God in heaven above and on earth below. Now then, since I have dealt kindly with you, swear to me by the LORD that you in turn will deal kindly with my family. Give me a sign of good faith….” (Joshua 2:11-12, NRSV).

I distinctly remember hearing Rahab’s story in Sunday school. There were pictures of her house on the city wall and the roof where she hid the Hebrew spies. Best of all, we got to make little red cords out of yarn to take home with us—reminders of the red cord she dangled out the window as a signal. I realize now that I got a heavily edited version of her story. Now that I’m all grown up, there are a few things I would like to ask her….

The following is an imagined interview between “C” (Carol) and “R” (Rahab).

C: My Sunday school teacher neglected to mention that you were a prostitute. Is that crucial to your story?

R: Well, it’s important in several ways at once. First of all, I never would have met the Hebrew spies if I had been in any other line of work.

C: What do you mean?

R: It was a stroke of genius on their part, really. Think about it. If you were a couple of male spies wandering into a strange town, where would you go to avoid attracting attention?

C: I see what you mean. How else did your profession come into play?

R: Let’s just say I was skilled in the art of the deal. As soon as I realized who they were, I knew I had one chance to negotiate for my life and the life of my family. It wasn’t a perfect deal, but it was the best one I could get.

C: What do you mean by that?

R: Well, there were conditions that I had to meet, but all they had to do was make promises. Still, they kept those promises, so it all worked out. In my experience, men aren’t always good at that. So, it was a huge relief when they held up their end of the bargain.

C: Do you mind if I ask you what led you into your former line of work?

R: Not at all—though I’m glad you recognize that it’s all in the past. Look, very few little girls grow up thinking, “I want to be a prostitute when I grow up.” I certainly didn’t. But I’m a survivor, OK? I was doing what I had to do to survive. And given how things turned out, even my career choice seems somewhat providential.

C: Say more about that.

R: I’ve learned a lot about the one true God since I agreed to help the Hebrew spies—although even at the time, I had done my research. (I’m a businesswoman, after all.) But when I said I would deal kindly with them if they dealt kindly with me, I don’t think I realized how central “kindness” is to God’s character. The Hebrew word for it is chesed; it means love that goes above and beyond the call of duty. That’s been my experience with God ever since. Looking back, I realize that it was that “above and beyond” love that was guiding me all along.

C: I’m a little surprised you can talk about God’s kindness in view of what happened to your home town.

R: I was afraid you might ask me about that. I don’t have a good answer for you, and frankly, it still keeps me awake some nights. I don’t understand how a good and loving God can get away with genocide.

C: That’s my problem with the whole book of Joshua! It’s even worse when you realize how believers have used that book to justify all manner of evil over the centuries. Even my county’s slaughter of the Indigenous Americans was justified with arguments about the “promised land.”

R: I guess I can’t help you much with that. Some things are simply above my pay grade.

C: I wonder if it’s fair to blame God for what people do in God’s name. At the very least I think the book should come with a “Handle with Care” label.

R: You’ve got that right. But I’m glad you cared enough to ask me for my perspective on the whole thing. If you have a little more time, I’d love to tell you about my life after Jericho.

C: That sounds great! I’ll work it into the piece that I’m doing on Ruth next week….

Ponder: How does Rahab’s story empower you? Convict you?

Pray: May kindness be the measure of all our thoughts, words, and actions, gracious God. Help us not to judge others by any other measure.

Read: Genesis 38

And Judah said, “Bring her out, and let her be burned.” As [Tamar] was being brought out, she sent word to her father-in-law, “It was the owner of these who made me pregnant.” And she said, “Take note, please, whose these are, the signet and the cord and the staff.” Then Judah acknowledged them and said, “She is more in the right than I….” (Genesis 38:24b–26a, NRSV).

If you don’t remember this story from Sunday school, there is probably a good reason for that. Tamar’s story is not for the squeamish. Yet it has a lot to say about the qualities that God admires. The fact that Tamar’s name makes it into Jesus’ genealogy signals that her story is worth remembering (Matthew 1:3). So, let’s “pull up our socks” and see what Tamar has to say.

The following is an imagined interview between “R” (a reader) and “T” (Tamar).

R: What were you thinking when you set out to trick your father-in-law into sleeping with you?

T: Well, I was desperate. And as the saying goes—desperate times call for desperate measures! I know it may be difficult for someone from your time to imagine, but I really had no agency. I was triply disadvantaged: I was a widow, I was childless, and I was an outsider. When it became clear to me that Judah was not going to make good on his promise to marry me to his youngest son, I decided to get creative.

R: I’d like to hear more about that, but first tell me more about this “levirate marriage law” where widows are expected to marry their brother-in-law. I believe it’s based on Deuteronomy 25….

T: Well, I couldn’t quote you chapter and verse. I suppose I shouldn’t judge it on the basis of my experience which, as you know, was particularly disappointing. It was designed as a kind of “social security” for women with no means of support. But to tell you the truth, it always seemed more about perpetuating the line of the man than protecting the woman.

R: I see what you mean. Plus, it couldn’t have been easy as a grieving widow to have to sleep with your brother-in-law!

T: You’ve got that right! And in my case…well, don’t even get me started on my brother-in-law, Onan.

R: Agreed. So, moving along to your decision to trick your father-in-law into giving you a child. What motivated you to ask for that pledge before the “transaction?” I mean, from a modern perspective, it was the equivalent of asking for all his major credit cards!

T: Yes, that was brilliant if I do say so myself. But I had no reason to trust him, and I had to make sure I had evidence of his identity. And as it turned out, it was a good thing I did.

R: You must have been terrified when he ordered you to be burned for “playing the whore.”

T: Well, obviously. But I wasn’t so terrified that I couldn’t appreciate the irony. I did pretend to be a prostitute, after all, albeit for a good cause. I also enjoyed the fact that the deceiver had been deceived. If you want the back story on that, just read about how Judah and his brothers tricked their father into believing their brother Joseph was dead.

R: Yes! I believe that’s in Genesis 37. They used Joseph’s blood-soaked robe; you used Judah’s signet, cord, and staff. I like that—“the deceiver deceived.”

T: I’ve come to think God has a keen sense of irony as well as a keen sense of justice.

R: And you got justice, Tamar!

T: I did. You can’t imagine how relieved I was when Judah said, “She is more in the right than I.” I give him a lot of credit for that. He could have tried to lie his way out of it. Powerful men often do.

R: Thank God he didn’t. And you ended up giving birth to twins!

T: Yes—I think you’d call that “an heir and a spare.”

R: Indeed. Speaking of heirs, does it surprise you that you are named in Jesus’ genealogy?

T: It does a bit. Women aren’t usually mentioned in genealogies—which has always struck me as hilarious, since people could hardly get from one generation to another without women.

R: Maybe it’s God’s sense of irony again. Or maybe it has something to do with the fact that God values things like courage, creativity, and chutzpah!

T: Well, I hope so. But I also like to think that God values those things wherever God finds them. If my story illustrates anything it’s that God’s love knows no borders.

R: Preach it, sister!

Ponder: How does Tamar’s story empower you? Convict you?

Pray: Help me to value what you value, gracious God. Then give me the courage, creativity, and chutzpah to act on those values.

Women in Waiting Series Introduction

In this short series we will look at the women named in Jesus genealogy in Matthew 1:1-17: Tamar, Rahab, Ruth, and Bathsheba. We’ll conclude with Mary, Jesus’ own mother.

Women don’t usually get mentioned in biblical genealogies, so the presence of these women in Jesus’ genealogy is especially interesting. What can we learn from their inclusion?

Genealogies tend to tell a lot about the people who treasure them. We like to brag about our ancestors, after all! So, why did the early Christian community feel it was important to name these women? They aren’t necessarily the women we would expect. They are not the traditional “matriarchs.” What’s more, at least three of these women are “foreigners.” Most would never make the list of the rich and powerful. Lastly, all of their stories intersect with sex somehow. This doesn’t make the women guilty of anything. (It’s a genealogy, for heaven’s sake—there must have been sex involved!) It does, however, make it even more surprising that a male dominated culture would consider them “worthy” of inclusion.

So, why are they here? What can we learn about them, about the values of the early church, and about ourselves by listening to these women’s stories?

I have chosen to explore these questions by using a first-person interview format. This will require me to read between the lines a bit—imagining what each of these women might say to those of us reading their stories centuries after the fact. I have tried to keep as close to the details of the text as possible, however, and the interview format makes these stories sparkle.

I hope you enjoy meeting these “Women in Waiting.” They have a lot to say!

Carol M. Bechtel