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Disposable Gabriel

by Brian D. Hinson

The lights illuminated a young Mary sitting alone, in a humble abode of wood on the stage of a church that more resembled a sports arena. The stadium screen behind her displayed the dusty streets of Nazareth: clusters of connected adobe brick structures beneath an orange sun blazing its last glory on the horizon.

The angel Gabriel swooped in from an aerial catwalk, huge feathered wings angled for a glide, and a collective gasp filled the auditorium. He alighted in front of Mary, folding wings that glowed in the spotlight. Mary leapt up and screamed, back pressed against the far wall.

Gabriel’s voice thundered. No mic pickup was necessary. “Fear not, Mary: for thou hast found favor with God. And, behold, thou shalt conceive in thy womb, and bring forth a son, and shalt call his name Jesus.”

The crowd cheered.

Pastor Anabel stood offstage, arms crossed. By her side, the play’s director, Pastor Jude, beamed as he scratched his beard, an old anxious habit. It was Christmas Eve, the final performance, and things were going perfectly. (Continue Reading…)