We’re in the midst of a pretty special time leading up to Christmas. I’m not talking about the rush to get presents and send Christmas cards, though I’m just as busy as the next person playing Santa’s helper. I’m talking about Advent. I can’t be too sure since I’ve been a bit distracted by toddlers trying to run amok, but I think the sermon in church the past few weeks included something about Advent as a season of focused preparation. Spiritual preparation, that is. So as tough as it is to pry myself away from the chaos and commercialism of the holiday, I’m trying to focus a bit more on my own spiritual understanding of what Christmas is truly about: Christ’s birth and life. And in doing so I've had a little time to reflect on some pretty interesting things.
Like the fact that Mary’s crazy.
That’s right.
Mary, as in the Mother of God. Crazy.
But let me take a step back and explain.
The Mary I know was born to loving parents named Anne and Joachim, and was human like the rest of us in every way save one: she did not sin. Try and wrap your head around that one. She faced all the same temptations other humans face, felt the same pain, dealt with every human emotion under the sun, but handled it all without making a mistake. Crazy. But I’ll come back to that one. In the mean time, humor me, if you will, on a quick little journey through her life.
Based on the little we know, Mary had a perfect (sinless) childhood, growing up with her loving parents in a nice little town full of nice people. She was the sweetest, most innocent girl around (literally) and had everything going for her when she got engaged at the perfect time to an almost perfect guy named Joseph. She never took a wrong step in her life and was set up for a pretty awesome future. And then her world was turned upside down with a little visit from a guy we all know as Gabriel.
He showed up completely unexpected, scared Mary out of her wits, and told her a few crazy things: that she would get pregnant even though it was physically impossible, that it would be a boy, that she shouldn't bother picking out a name because he already had one, and oh by the way, her son would be God. She just had to agree to it all. But hey, if she didn’t want to say yes she didn’t have to. The whole free will thing and all.
But she did. None of the pleasure, all of the humiliation and pain. Crazy, crazy, and crazy!
And that’s just the start. I bet everyone was just so incredibly understanding when they found out she was pregnant. Imagine going from sweet, innocent Mary to ‘tramp' of the town. Sure, they believed she was a virgin. Ha. Good one. Not to mention that her nice fiancé wasn’t too keen on the whole marriage idea anymore.
But she took it all on the chin, going through a very real pregnancy—with no prenatal care, mind you—and just as she was nearing the finish line, she found out she had to make a road trip at nine months pregnant. Now let me tell you from experience, travelling even 70-80 miles in a car at that stage in the game is highly uncomfortable. Now replace the car with a donkey and add two days. Crazy, I tell you. But at least she could finally relax a bit at some inn when they got to Bethlehem, right?
Nope. A barn it was. Full of smelly horse and cow manure that she could fully appreciate with her super sensitive pregnancy nose. But wait, there’s more—she had the pleasure of being in labor at the moment! And having her baby who happened to be God right there on a nice comfy haystack with rodents skittering about!
Crazy and gross. And remember the no sin thing? Three days on a donkey, no one nice enough to put a woman in labor up for the night, and the agony of childbirth while surrounded by the luxury of biting winter wind and steaming horse manure. Still not even one sinful thought.
Crazy.
Moving along: while trying to bond that first week with the one perfect joy in her life, Mary found out that their egotistical king was afraid of getting overthrown after hearing rumors of a newborn king. So instead of going home to live with her husband and new baby, they had to flee to a foreign land so her beautiful new son was not systematically murdered like all the other male children in the land aged zero to two. Witness protection program in Egypt, anyone? No, thank you!
And mind you, she still had to raise the kid in the midst of their exile. Potty training in itself is a rough road. But doing so without sin? While in exile? With a toddler who is GOD? Unreal!
And while potty training God has its merits, even greater is the sacrifice which would follow—his death. The loss of a child is by far the greatest grief most of us can imagine. Already a widow, Mary not only had to watch Jesus be publicly humiliated and tortured, she had to watch her own son—her own flesh and blood—be
murdered in front of her in the most brutal way fathomable. And she could do nothing to stop it.
Crazy.
She’d been told long before while holding her son as an infant that a sword would “pierce her heart.” Did she know then what it meant? Did she know that the “sword” would be the piercing grief of holding her son’s lifeless body in her arms while others continued to mock him? I think part of her knew. Yet in the midst of her unbearable grief she accepted it all with a pure heart and a blameless soul.
Why?
Why would anyone agree to go through all of that?
The only plausible explanation is that she knew it wasn’t about her. It was about something much bigger. She was able to see past her own mountainous grief and utter brokenness and realize that even when her world was crashing down and life didn’t make sense, God was still doing something incredible in the big picture. Even without the answers, she was crazy enough to
really trust Him, putting others first and herself last.
That’s why Mary is so important to Christianity and so highly regarded: because of her perfect example of trust and humility. She’s not a God to be prayed to, nor an idol to be worshipped. She is an advocate in heaven who prays for us. She is an example to follow. A simple human who was tested in every way possible—more than any of us—and came out ahead. She willingly took on a life full of humiliation, suffering, and heartbreak so that God could carry out His plan; she allowed herself to be reduced to nothing, and in the end gained everything. In a tragic game of life, she won, and ever since she’s lived happily ever after—more happily than any princess or queen out there.
That’s definitely what I want to gain when this life on earth is over, but I’m so very far from perfect. Especially when it comes to motherhood. I’ve missed the mark so many times in life, said and done so many things I regret; things I wish I could take back or undo but, alas, cannot. I think I’ve given into the sin of frustration and anger more times than I can count in potty training alone. So I need all the help I can get, and will always solicit all the prayers and advice I can manage. Such prayers from friends and loved ones both on earth and in heaven are priceless, especially from Mary—the perfect example of motherhood and human selflessness who will always lead me to her son, and who can help me grasp his significance better than anyone this Advent season.
