CHRISTA - Mary: An Intimate Moment

better late than never, our 4th week of advent focused on mary and the beauty & ugliness of that crazy christmas night. this was part of our christmas eve, eve gathering, adapted from ken gire's "intimate moments with the savior".

I see him. Oh little one, I see you. So short a time ago I held you. Close to me. I see him. I remember shepherds and wise men. It only seems like yesterday.

For the census, the royal family has to travel 85 miles. Joseph walks, while Mary, nine months pregnant, rides on a donkey, feeling every jolt, every rut, every rock in the land. By the time they arrive, the small hamlet of Bethlehem is swollen from an influx of travelers. The inn is packed, people feeling lucky if they found a small space on the floor. Now it is late, everyone is asleep and there is no room. But fortunately, the innkeeper is not all shekels and mites. True, his stable is crowded with his guests’ animals, but if they could squeeze out a little privacy there, they were welcome to it.

Joseph looks over at Mary, whose attention is concentrated on fighting a contraction. “We’ll take it” he tells the innkeeper without hesitation. The night is still when Joseph creaks open the stable door. As he does, a chorus of barn animals makes note of the intrusion. The stench is pungent and humid. A small oil lamp, lent them by the innkeeper, flickers on the walls. A disquieting place for a woman in the throes of childbirth. Far from home. Far from family. Far from what she had expected for her firstborn.

And little Mary full of grace. With the tears upon her face had no mother’s hand to hold. No mother’s hand to hold.

For Mary, it is a relief just to get off the donkey. She leans against the wall, feet swollen, back aching, contractions growing stronger and closer together.

Noble Joseph.

Joseph’s eyes dart around the stable. Quickly. A feeding trough for a bed. Hay would serve as bedding. Blankets? Blankets? His robes. And those rags hung out to dry would help. A gripping contraction doubles Mary over and sends him racing for a bucket of water. Noble Joseph.

The birth would not be easy, either for the mother or child. For every royal privilege for this son ended at conception.

A scream from Mary knifes through the calm of the night. Joseph returns, water sloshing from a bucket. The top of the baby’s head has already pushed it’s way into the world. Sweat pours from Mary’s contorted face as Joseph. Noble Joseph at her side. Callused hands and weary eyes rushes to her side. There were no midwives to be found in the streets of David’s town, in the middle of the night. Noble Joseph at her side.

The involuntary contractions are not enough and Mary has to push with all her strength, as if God were refusing to come into the world without her help. Joseph places a garment beneath her, and with a final push and a long sigh her labor is over.

The Messiah has arrived.

Elongated head from the constricting journey through the birth canal. Light skin, as the pigment will take days or even weeks to surface. Mucus in his ears and nostrils. Wet and slippery from the amniotic fluid.

The Son of the Most High God

Umbilically tied to a Jewish girl. The baby chokes and coughs. Joseph instinctively turns him over and clears his throat. Then the baby cries.

Mary bares her breast and reaches for the shivering baby. She lays him on her chest, and his helpless cries subside. His tiny head bobs around on the unfamiliar terrain. This will be the first thing the infant-king learns. Mary can feel his racing heartbeat as he reaches to nurse. Deity nursing from a young woman’s breast.

Could anything be more puzzling - or more profound?

Joseph sits, exhausted. silent. full of wonder...The baby finishes and sighs, the divine Word reduced to a few unintelligible sounds. Then, for the first time, his eyes fix on his mother’s. Deity straining to focus. The Light of the World, squinting.

What child is this? What child...

Tears pool in her eyes. She touches his tiny hands. And hands that once sculpted mountain ranges cling to her finger.

The virgin sings her lullaby... Joy, joy for Christ is born. Joy Joy Joy.

Mary looks up at Joseph, and through a watery veil, their souls touch. He crowds closer, cheek to cheek with his betrothed.

Together they stare in awe. not flesh of my flesh. Joy, joy for Jesus in born, son of my love. They stare in awe.

How can this be?

They stare in awe at the baby. Jesus. Whose heavy eyelids begin to close. It has been a long journey.

And so, with barely a ripple of notice, God stepped into the warm lake of humanity. without protocol and without pretension.

Except for Joseph, there was no one to share Mary’s pain. Or her joy. Yes there were angels announcing the Savior’s arrival, but only to a band of shepherds. And yes, a magnificent star shone in the sky to mark his birthplace, but only a few foreigners bothered to look up and follow.

Thus, in the little town of Bethlehem the royal birth of God’s son tiptoed quietly by as the world slept.

I think it's important to read, listen, engage in things that help us to think about Mary as a real person, really doing this incredible thing with God and for God. Mary really lived and gave birth to a baby boy. Joseph really existed and chose to stay by her side and accept Jesus as his own son.

She is so much more than a figurine with a blue head piece staring with ceramic eyes at a painted baby. She engaged in life with God and because of this endured such incredible joy and suffering. What a woman! What grace!

May we all pray for a bit of her grace as we end this year. May we have the courage to accept God's word (from an angel or a friend or a song on the radio) and follow through and say "yes" to the task set before us. May we like Mary have the grace to respond to life and sing "I'm bursting with God-news; I'm dancing the song of my Savior God. God took one good look at me, and look what happened-I'm the most fortunate woman/man on earth!"

Amen.