hurry?”
Now you may wonder how the rumor got started that Jesus was the son of an angel. To the Jews of the time, impregnation by an angel was far more believable than a young virgin being overcome by Ruah Ha Kadosh—Holy Spirit—and ending up pregnant. Jewish history was full of such stories about human women and angels. Everyone knew how the watcher angels whom God had appointed to govern the nations of the earth when it was new were persuaded by guess who to receive the adulation and praise from the people. It was a short jump from receiving adoration to developing a lust for it.
“Have you considered the daughters of man?” Satan had asked the guarding angels.
That’s when the real angelic rebellion occurred, if you ask me— when the watchers raped the human women, and the Nephilim were born. The reason for Noah’s flood was to cleanse the gene pool of humanity from the Nephilim bloodline. Most were destroyed, but not all of them.
The idea that Mary was pregnant by an angel was not a stretch for the imagination, especially so when Joseph told someone how an angel had urged him to go ahead and marry her anyway, and then how the same angel returned later and told him to take Mary and Jesus and escape to Egypt.
“Why do you think the angel didn’t warn any of the other Jews to flee from Herod’s slaughter of the baby boys?” asked someone else around the fire that night.
“It’s obvious as can be. The angel was only protecting his own. None of those other baby boys were half-breed angels.”
“The story goes that the angel who impregnated Mary was the same one who told Joseph to go ahead and marry her and came back later to warn them to flee to Egypt,” said one of the men.
The story was so widely circulated that Joseph faced resistance from the rabbis to allow Jesus into the synagogue for worship.
“Who is his father?” asked the chief rabbi, blocking Joseph’s entrance.
“I am his father,” Joseph declared.
The rabbis let them pass, but it was clear to everyone they were suspicious. Either Jesus was half angel, or He was the illegitimate son of a promiscuous woman. It was hard to guess which they thought was worse.
I was relieved for Mary when the messenger angel appeared again to Joseph months later. I recognized him immediately.
“You’re back. I was hoping to see you again.”
“Why? I’m here to speak to Joseph.”
“As you can see, he’s asleep. Maybe we can chat a minute.”
“About what?”
“First, let me ask you, do you by any chance know who I am?”
“No idea.”
I’m sure my face fell to the floor. It was a foolish dream I know, but I had somehow hoped that all the times I’d called out to God over the centuries might have been heard about by the rank-and-file angelic realm. I’d imagined that God had talked about me with the angels; perhaps they were all thinking about my predicament and how to save me. It was disappointing to know there wasn’t the slightest remembrance of me in the third heaven.
“Listen,” the angel said, “I’d love to stay and talk, but I’ve got a message for Joseph, and I’m on a schedule.”
“He’s not awake.”
“I can speak into his dream.”
“Right, I know the drill,” I sighed. “Go ahead.”
The angel hovered over Joseph’s sleeping body, just like before.
“Joseph, Herod is dead. It’s time for you to take Mary and Jesus to Nazareth.”
He was just about to leave when I stopped him.
“Wait, can I ask you another question?”
“Make it snappy.”
“OK, well, um…How shall I put this?”
“Sorry, gotta go.”
“How well do you know Mary?” I managed to spit the words out.
“Know Mary?” He looked confused. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, do you know Mary—in the biblical way?” I could feel my face turning red from embarrassment.
He looked at me as if I were odd.
“Never met the lady,” he gave me one more look and took off.
The next morning Joseph told Mary they were going home.
Now you may wonder how the rumor got started that Jesus was the son of an angel. To the Jews of the time, impregnation by an angel was far more believable than a young virgin being overcome by Ruah Ha Kadosh—Holy Spirit—and ending up pregnant. Jewish history was full of such stories about human women and angels. Everyone knew how the watcher angels whom God had appointed to govern the nations of the earth when it was new were persuaded by guess who to receive the adulation and praise from the people. It was a short jump from receiving adoration to developing a lust for it.
“Have you considered the daughters of man?” Satan had asked the guarding angels.
That’s when the real angelic rebellion occurred, if you ask me— when the watchers raped the human women, and the Nephilim were born. The reason for Noah’s flood was to cleanse the gene pool of humanity from the Nephilim bloodline. Most were destroyed, but not all of them.
The idea that Mary was pregnant by an angel was not a stretch for the imagination, especially so when Joseph told someone how an angel had urged him to go ahead and marry her anyway, and then how the same angel returned later and told him to take Mary and Jesus and escape to Egypt.
“Why do you think the angel didn’t warn any of the other Jews to flee from Herod’s slaughter of the baby boys?” asked someone else around the fire that night.
“It’s obvious as can be. The angel was only protecting his own. None of those other baby boys were half-breed angels.”
“The story goes that the angel who impregnated Mary was the same one who told Joseph to go ahead and marry her and came back later to warn them to flee to Egypt,” said one of the men.
The story was so widely circulated that Joseph faced resistance from the rabbis to allow Jesus into the synagogue for worship.
“Who is his father?” asked the chief rabbi, blocking Joseph’s entrance.
“I am his father,” Joseph declared.
The rabbis let them pass, but it was clear to everyone they were suspicious. Either Jesus was half angel, or He was the illegitimate son of a promiscuous woman. It was hard to guess which they thought was worse.
I was relieved for Mary when the messenger angel appeared again to Joseph months later. I recognized him immediately.
“You’re back. I was hoping to see you again.”
“Why? I’m here to speak to Joseph.”
“As you can see, he’s asleep. Maybe we can chat a minute.”
“About what?”
“First, let me ask you, do you by any chance know who I am?”
“No idea.”
I’m sure my face fell to the floor. It was a foolish dream I know, but I had somehow hoped that all the times I’d called out to God over the centuries might have been heard about by the rank-and-file angelic realm. I’d imagined that God had talked about me with the angels; perhaps they were all thinking about my predicament and how to save me. It was disappointing to know there wasn’t the slightest remembrance of me in the third heaven.
“Listen,” the angel said, “I’d love to stay and talk, but I’ve got a message for Joseph, and I’m on a schedule.”
“He’s not awake.”
“I can speak into his dream.”
“Right, I know the drill,” I sighed. “Go ahead.”
The angel hovered over Joseph’s sleeping body, just like before.
“Joseph, Herod is dead. It’s time for you to take Mary and Jesus to Nazareth.”
He was just about to leave when I stopped him.
“Wait, can I ask you another question?”
“Make it snappy.”
“OK, well, um…How shall I put this?”
“Sorry, gotta go.”
“How well do you know Mary?” I managed to spit the words out.
“Know Mary?” He looked confused. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, do you know Mary—in the biblical way?” I could feel my face turning red from embarrassment.
He looked at me as if I were odd.
“Never met the lady,” he gave me one more look and took off.
The next morning Joseph told Mary they were going home.
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