If Jesus is the interpreter of the Torah, more properly the Tanakh, then how is The Virgin Mary the interpreter of the New Testament?
He had just finished his second phone call to her as night began to fall, both calls having been longer than most of those he had made during what had become almost a decade of their living together. She had asked if God could see her spirit.
More accurately, she had asked if The Lord could see her spirit and during their conversation, while telling him that she loved him, she had added, “I will pray for you and you can pray for me.” . It had began mostly when he offered to bring her into any church anywhere that was open, whenever she asked, and that she could enter and pray by herself, that having continued whenever they went out for the afternoon or evening.
It wasn’t how much of the relationship he may have unintentionally ruined during the nine years or how much of the time could have been better spent, that had worked itself out, and, after plenty of reflection, was not only the last thing on his mind, but completely unfair to her for if he were to dwell on it now. Specifically now. There had been one church they had visited that during the summer had had a secluded stone well with presumably oversized goldfish to be used as a prayer garden.
As he pictured her in which ever church came to mind first, among them being churches of a historical interest where by necessity the two of them had both approached the altar, along with the grave of a Victorian poet where the stillness had been interrupted by a group of wild turkeys and darting wild rabbits, he again thought about it being she and only she. It was only her that had said what he had just heard. It had come from no one else but her and it was up to him to believe that he had heard it, that it was something she would say on her own, unprompted, maybe even unpredicated, something she would ever say.
Unpredictably, she would say the exact right thing as though only she would know how.
She would write on envelopes and he knew that he would continually find them; phone numbers, then snippets of topics she might later not quite want or need to discuss, and then the same phone number again with the date of an appointment. Lately the familiar formality of “What I was going to say to you” and “What I was going to ask you”, although personable and almost heartstopping it’s being a pleasantry, had given way to just a tone, one that was almost a personal request for an answer in that she had found someone that she could count on and the question would be worth risking. Both, being convivial, might have arisen from intimacy.