Mary was a beautiful girl from a rich family. Her dad regularly gave to the poor: They were good people.
Yes, THAT Mary!
I saw her in the market one day, picking up supplies for Christmas dinner. No, wait! It wouldn’t have been a Christmas at that point. I don’t know, man. All those holy days blend together for me.
Anyhow, she was shopping, doing some good-natured haggling with the merchants, and looking more beautiful than any human I had ever seen. I was discretely hanging around, watching the people come and go. I had stopped announcing my Holy Presence since that whole “Abraham incident” (remind me to tell you about THAT some time).
I had to talk to her. “Excuse me. Is that a moon dress? Because your body is out of this world!”
What a great way to start a conversation! She was coy at first, but eventually warmed up to me. Over the next few weeks, we started spending a lot of time together: We had picnics, walks through the woods, evenings on her front porch. It was great. I was really in love with her.
It wasn’t just about her beauty either. She was a warm and intelligent young woman. I had every intention of asking her to marry me, so we could roam the universe together.
Then it all changed. This scrawny carpenter kid started hanging around. Yep, Joseph. It seemed that whenever I called on her, she was already off doing something with that hammer-wielding prick. I mean really. She could spend the rest of eternity discovering the mysteries of the universe with me, or she could raise all Joseph’s snot-nosed kids. Don’t ask me how I lost out on that deal.
Now one day, I went to her house to try to talk to her, and her dad pulled me aside. “You have a lot of nerve coming around here after what you did to my Mary.”
“Joachim, I don’t know what you’re talking about. What’s wrong with Mary?”
“She keeps talking about this ‘Immaculate Conception’, saying that you put her in a family way.”
Now, Paul, I swear to you. I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again: I did not have sexual relations with that woman. I know that story has really gotten around – it may even say something about it in that glittery book you keep bringing here – but my intentions were nothing but honourable.
So that’s where my part in the story ends. Joachim thought there was more future in the carpentry industry than in creating new worlds, so he made Joseph marry her, then he shipped them both off to Bethlehem until the baby was born.
After they returned to Nazareth, there was much talk. People still didn’t believe this was Joseph’s baby. They were saying he looked like me. The Son of God they said.
That’s bullshit, I tell you. I don’t know if he was Joseph’s baby, but he certainly wasn’t mine.