Christmas Eve
Christmas Eve 2017 Mary’s Pondering…A Monologue A woman has a lot of time to consider the nature and state of things rocking her baby to sleep in the small hours of the morning. This is what I pondered with my son in my arms, rocking to the sweet sound of his steady breathing. This was the time I treasured most for it is a gift dear to a mother’s heart—simply to be with her child in her arms. Before the shepherds came and with Joseph asleep nearby, I had him all to myself—the world needed him but the night he was born, for the first and last time, he was just mine. Holding him there still in the night under starlight and soft angel singing, he wouldn’t fall asleep unless he felt my hand against his cheek, his hand resting on mine. It was as if we were saying to each other in the simple language of a touch—“Are you still there?” and “don’t ever let go…” With my baby in my arms, with only me, a simple girl to depend upon, I thought to myself, “Who am I now? What is it to be a mother to this child?” It is a forever promise, the kind of promise I had never made before. To always be there, to provide, to protect. Motherhood begins with a promise. And it changes you forever. A mother is humbled in the moment of her baby’s first cry when she learns that it is never all about you again. Looking into his eyes, I saw the image of God looking back at me and I knew my purpose was not about raising a scholar, an athlete, a doctor or a lawyer but about simply helping him become who God intended him to be. As his parents, like any parents, Joseph and I had the awesome responsibility of creating the space in which he could explore, test and grow into the person God called him to be, fulfilling the unique potential and possibility God gave him at birth. It is thrilling and wonderful and terrifying all at once. You learn soon enough that motherhood brings you indescribable joy as you receive the gift of your baby’s first smile, as you count his milestones—crawling, walking, talking. But
it will also break your heart as you witness his first discoveries that the world can be a hurtful place—the first time he bumps his head or scrapes his knee and later the things that can’t be made better by a hug and a kiss—when he is made fun of for being different or when his heart is broken by his first love or when is finally betrayed by a friend… But something inside you knows you can’t protect them forever…As my son’s life grew dangerous, Joseph and I would hold each other and in the strength of our embrace one of us would always find the courage for the other and find the way to trust that God was there with us, encouraging us, comforting us, and when it got to be too much, carrying us. In the time after his death, people asked me, “Mary did you know?” I tell you surely I did not; for if I did, like any mother, I would have done everything in my power to keep him out of harm’s way. I would have thrown myself down and for his life pleaded for mercy, “take me instead.” With desperate pain, I watched the events of his life unfold and as the time drew near it was only by the grace of God that I mourned and grieved and yet could let him go with the deepest gratitude that he had been mine at all. And still now even after all he has done and been, it is the night that he was born that I treasure the most. In his baby eyes, I learned about life and faith and began to unfold the edges of an understanding of my faith in a God who loves us enough not to stay away but to come near, as near as flesh and breath. Certainly I am no religious scholar, but to me as a mother, as it should for any mother, it meant simply that God is in this child. Believe that to be true and it will change you forever. You will see God at play, God laughing, God trusting in our partnership. You will soon see God in every child. Then in every dear friend. Then in every human. And your view of the world changes. The hurts of the world are not just bad things that happen but are offenses to God. You will ache in the injustice of it all and know you must do something.
And for me, like that night with my son in my arms, I see these truths strongest in a child’s eyes. There is something about a baby’s eyes, the way he looks at you. It is certainly the image of God, but there is more. Something in his gaze that night seemed to hold back a secret. It was as if he knew something I didn’t or had long forgotten. I have wondered what the substance of that secret might be. Perhaps it is just this—that all children—before they learn too much of the ways of the world—carry a certain confidence, undefined and indescribable. And I believe it is this, a knowledge they are born with and by their very existence is true…Look deeply in the face of a child, looking back at you, and what you will see in that wise gaze is the innocent belief that they can change the world. And what my son’s birth taught me is that the power to change the world must begin in innocence. Innocence is not naivete, not a blindness to the reality of the world, but an absolute certainty that that reality is not permanent—it can be changed. Yes, a woman has a lot of time to consider the nature and state of things rocking her baby to sleep in the small hours of the morning. And this Christmas as you celebrate the birth of a baby born with the very power and potential of God, consider the places and times he has been made real to you. Consider someone who has changed your world—with a word of comfort or a reassuring embrace or a bit of encouragement when you needed it the most— and give thanks. God has come to you through them, however young or innocent they may be. This is your incarnation—in these holy days find the way to treasure them in your heart and to ponder the power of one life as it transforms you and with you, changes the world.
it will also break your heart as you witness his first discoveries that the world can be a hurtful place—the first time he bumps his head or scrapes his knee and later the things that can’t be made better by a hug and a kiss—when he is made fun of for being different or when his heart is broken by his first love or when is finally betrayed by a friend… But something inside you knows you can’t protect them forever…As my son’s life grew dangerous, Joseph and I would hold each other and in the strength of our embrace one of us would always find the courage for the other and find the way to trust that God was there with us, encouraging us, comforting us, and when it got to be too much, carrying us. In the time after his death, people asked me, “Mary did you know?” I tell you surely I did not; for if I did, like any mother, I would have done everything in my power to keep him out of harm’s way. I would have thrown myself down and for his life pleaded for mercy, “take me instead.” With desperate pain, I watched the events of his life unfold and as the time drew near it was only by the grace of God that I mourned and grieved and yet could let him go with the deepest gratitude that he had been mine at all. And still now even after all he has done and been, it is the night that he was born that I treasure the most. In his baby eyes, I learned about life and faith and began to unfold the edges of an understanding of my faith in a God who loves us enough not to stay away but to come near, as near as flesh and breath. Certainly I am no religious scholar, but to me as a mother, as it should for any mother, it meant simply that God is in this child. Believe that to be true and it will change you forever. You will see God at play, God laughing, God trusting in our partnership. You will soon see God in every child. Then in every dear friend. Then in every human. And your view of the world changes. The hurts of the world are not just bad things that happen but are offenses to God. You will ache in the injustice of it all and know you must do something.
And for me, like that night with my son in my arms, I see these truths strongest in a child’s eyes. There is something about a baby’s eyes, the way he looks at you. It is certainly the image of God, but there is more. Something in his gaze that night seemed to hold back a secret. It was as if he knew something I didn’t or had long forgotten. I have wondered what the substance of that secret might be. Perhaps it is just this—that all children—before they learn too much of the ways of the world—carry a certain confidence, undefined and indescribable. And I believe it is this, a knowledge they are born with and by their very existence is true…Look deeply in the face of a child, looking back at you, and what you will see in that wise gaze is the innocent belief that they can change the world. And what my son’s birth taught me is that the power to change the world must begin in innocence. Innocence is not naivete, not a blindness to the reality of the world, but an absolute certainty that that reality is not permanent—it can be changed. Yes, a woman has a lot of time to consider the nature and state of things rocking her baby to sleep in the small hours of the morning. And this Christmas as you celebrate the birth of a baby born with the very power and potential of God, consider the places and times he has been made real to you. Consider someone who has changed your world—with a word of comfort or a reassuring embrace or a bit of encouragement when you needed it the most— and give thanks. God has come to you through them, however young or innocent they may be. This is your incarnation—in these holy days find the way to treasure them in your heart and to ponder the power of one life as it transforms you and with you, changes the world.
