LITMIR.BIZ

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cannot imagine that Mary was wildly happy about the news there at the beginning. Can you really see her turning cartwheels like in a Rodgers and Hammerstein musical or throwing back the sash of her apartment window yelling, “Yes, Nazareth! Yes, I’m the lucky girl! I get to carry God’s baby! Won’t Mom be proud of me?!” I just can’t see any of this. Mary was perplexed. She was afraid. But I think the poor woman also felt interrupted. Her soul eventually “magnifies the Lord” (Luke 1:46) and all that, but at first, with an angel standing in her kitchen, she must have felt interrupted.

      Among the many facts of time and place crammed into the first few words of this story (Luke 1:26–38) is this crucial tidbit: Mary was engaged to a guy. She had plans. Her wedding was on the foreseeable horizon. Don’t you think she daydreamed about her future together with Joseph? In other words, Mary already had a life when Gabriel came knocking. It wasn’t like her calendar was clear for this new, exciting venture, or she was out looking for something delightfully different to spice up her dull days. No, Mary had a life!

      We also have a life. Rare is the person who can say, “Thank you so much for interrupting my vacation in your hour of need.” Or, “Sure, please sign me up for an extra stint of jury duty next time.” Interruptions come to all of us, but please be honest about that first gut reaction. Even among the most gracious, they’re usually not welcome.

      But Mary says “Yes.” She says “Okay” to uncertainty. And thirty years later (or maybe thirty-three, depending on which Gospel you consult for Jesus’ age at death) you have to wonder if Mary ever had any regret about giving the go-ahead. Because you have to admit it must have been very weird to be the mom of God.

      *

      They were all in the holy city once, a family vacation. Mary turns around at a vendor stand (maybe she’s been distracted by the beautiful weavings and baskets) and suddenly Jesus, her twelve-year old, is missing. Jesus is separated from his parents for three days. Three days. They finally find him in the temple among the teachers. Mary says, “Son, we’ve been looking for you in great anxiety” (Luke 2:48). Now there’s an understatement. Do you recall how the lad answers his mom? Basically this: “Chill out, would you Mom? Didn’t you know I’d be right here?”

      They were at a wedding together, Mary and Jesus. Many think Mary was probably in charge of the reception. Tradition says she was a relative of the bride. The wine runs out and she states the obvious to her talented and precocious son. “Woman,” he says. “Woman, what is that to you and me?” (John 2:4). Now I don’t know about your family, but this seeming impertinence would not have gone over in mine.

      Jesus was teaching once. A large crowd. His family shows up. Mary was among them. But they arrive not for theological edification or due to family pride. They’re worried about Jesus’ sanity (Mark 3:21). They’ve worried about his sanity for quite awhile. They show up to “restrain” Jesus; haul him off to a safe and quiet place with attendants and perhaps a nice room with a view of the water.

      Another time the family shows up. Mary is again with them. They just want a little time with Jesus—they see so little of the boy these days. Can’t he spare a couple hours to go on a picnic in the forest, frolic at the sea for an afternoon for a family reunion? A message comes to Jesus: “Your mom’s outside. She and your brothers are waiting to see you.” Jesus’ reply would have stung if Mary remembered it on Mother’s Day: “Who are my mother and brothers? They’re not outside.” He points to his disciples. “Here they are. This is my real family. Whoever does the will of God is my true kin” (Matt 12:46–50).

Oddly, there is not a single scene in the Gospels where Jesus gives his mom a gift, writes her a sweet card, or spends time in her kitchen eating chocolate chip cookies. The only time that Jesus gives his mom anything is when he’s hanging there on the cross. Mary is standing at the foot of the cross and Jesus points to one of the disciples. He points to this guy and says, “Woman” (still calls his own mom that, please note). Points to a young man standing on the ground and says, “Woman, here is your son” (John 19:26). It’s like Jesus is giving Mary the son she’s never had.10

She had a very strange life. At the end of it, you have to wonder if Mary thought back to that evening in her kitchen with the angel Gabriel. You have to wonder if she would have changed anything. I think she would have said “yes” all over again, which says a lot about her in my book. With Mary, God also asks us to carry the child Jesus in our lives—to bring him to term and maturity11 in our hearts. What will it mean if we also say “yes”?

      *

      In London, after the second World War, there was an orphanage some soldiers visited on Christmas morning—“Queen Anne’s Orphanage” in the heart of the city. The soldiers had been walking by on the street and heard a celebration going on inside. The house mother gladly received them and explained that the children’s parents had been killed in the bombing raids. The orphanage was a sparse place—no tree and no presents. The soldiers moved around the room and passed out small gifts from their pockets: Life Savers, chewing gum, coins, pencils.

      One little boy, though, stood back from the men. He was quiet and very shy. One soldier approached him and asked, “And you, little guy, what do you want for Christmas?” The boy slowly answered, “Will . . . will you hold me?” The soldier picked up the little boy, nestled him close, and held him tight.

      God asks Mary the same question: Will you hold me? And that is the question posed to all Christians at Advent. Will we hold Jesus and carry him with us no matter the interruption or inconvenience?

      Give us courage, gracious God, to give our consent to your divine intrusion into our well-planned lives. That with Mary of old we might all confess: “Here am I, your servant; let it be with me according to your word.”

      For further reflection:

      1. Try to find a recording of “Let It Be,” the hit single recorded by the Beatles in 1970. In interviews, Paul McCartney is rather evasive about the song’s origins. Do you think he may have had Mary’s old story in mind as he wrote this song?

      2. Reflect upon a recent interruption in your work/life. Describe your reaction to the interruption and any surprises you may have experienced as a result. Could God have been the source of this interruption?

10. I’m indebted to Frederick Buechner for this insight.

11. See Eph 4:11–13.

      8. Jesus, Son of Joseph

      “Her husband, Joseph, being a righteous man and unwilling to expose her to public disgrace, planned to dismiss her quietly” (Matt 1:19).

      Okay, pretend with me and I’ll lay it out straight for you. You’re a man, an engaged man. And your fiancée comes in with a bit of news. She’s pregnant—a bun in the proverbial oven. You can weather this news. After all, you two won’t be the first couple who’ve rushed up a wedding date. You are calm. You can handle this. Your in-laws are understanding people. Things will be okay. Settle down. Take a deep breath.

      But then this. She hems and haws and blushes and stammers a bit and then blurts it all out. She says the baby isn’t yours. Silence. It takes no time and a world of time for the news to reach your ears. You are reeling. You see the pain in her face and feel deeply for this woman you love; the anguish in her eyes as she tells you the truth. You both begin to tear up.

      But you also can’t help feeling betrayal and anger mounting from way down, deep down. Who has she been with? How did this happen? How could she have lied to you? A thousand things race through your mind. Wedding plans called off. Awkward explanations to friends. The taking back of rings. You love the woman standing in front of you, but this is not your baby. And there are limits to a person’s care, a man’s patience, are there not? You feel for her.

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