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December 17, 2009
Advent Musing -- Day 19
When I attended the Passion Play in Oberammergau, Germany, in 1990, my sister told me ahead of time that there would be a moment that would grab me and never let go.
That put me on the spot a bit. What if it didn't happen? After all, I knew the story pretty well, and her statement made me feel pressured, sort of like going to a religious event and being expected to have some kind of experience that would initiate you into the "in" crowd.
I tried to put my sister's comment out of my mind. Since those unusual moments of grace cannot be programmed or contrived, I just relaxed and gave my full attention to the magnificent simplicity of that production.
I shouldn't have worried. As Mary the mother of Jesus held her son's body in her arms after he had been removed from the cross, she wailed, "My son! My son!" in German, and I couldn't breathe. It was that profoundly human moment that haunts me still.
I've thought a lot about what it must have been like to have mothered the child Jesus to maturity. Because so little is known about Jesus' childhood, I suppose all we can do is speculate about how much she knew about who he was and what his purpose in life was to be.
The popular song "Mary, Did You Know" confronts us with the possibility that perhaps she didn't have the full picture of Jesus' life when he was born. Sometimes when I teach about this, people get upset about the idea that Mary might have learned who he was a little at a time, but mostly I think the upset is more about having a long-held cherished belief challenged. There's just something about that Christmas story that we love, and we don't much want anyone tampering with our ideas about it, and yet I keep wanting to ask, "Mary, what did you know? And when did you know it?"
Since I believe that Jesus was fully human and fully divine, however, I keep on asking the questions about what it was like for him and for his family as he grew up in a real family, a neighborhood, a group of friends. I wonder if there was sibling rivalry. Did Joseph scold him? Were there times when Mary was frustrated with him, besides that time at the Temple when he was twelve, of course, and showed himself to be unusually precocious. That Mark relates in his gospel that at one time when Jesus was drawing such a crowd because of what he was doing, his family went to get him and to take charge of him, saying that he was out of his mind pretty much convinces me that Jesus' family learned who he was in increments.
There is one thing I know for sure, and it is this: The depth of compassion and empathy, sensitivity and love that Jesus revealed isn't developed in a child who is made to believe he is entitled, special and above the laws of others. In fact, one of the worst things that can happen to a child is to be made the center of the parent's world or made to feel that she is better than other, and if anyone who is reading this needs evidence for this, read the newspapers and watch the news. Terminal uniqueness is not a quality that promotes the kind of Savior Jesus became.
When I ponder these things in my heart, it seems to make sense that Jesus had a dawning awareness of his purpose in life, and I think that his upbringing in Mary's and Joseph's home contributed to the actualization of his mission. Whatever they did enhanced the boy Jesus' developing and maturation process in such a way that he could fulfill his mission. For all kinds of reasons, I think Jesus had to do chores like the rest of the children.
And when I ponder Mary's role, I have to believe that she, too, had a dawning awareness of who Jesus was, an awareness that had to have been tested, tried and challenged over his lifetime. Sometimes I wonder if she would have said Yes to the angel's invitation from God if she had known that Calvary was ahead.
It's one thing to read the story of Jesus through the eyes of over 2000 years with a perspective shaped not only by the biblical record but whatever cultural and religious overlays have been placed on the story you've heard.
It was something else entirely to have lived the story as a flesh-and-blood mother, a real person, a human being asked to be an instrument of God in a tiny village in a remote part of the world.
What do you think? What did Mary know, and when did she know it?
Does pondering the humanity of Jesus make your faith expand? Or does it bother you?
Grace -- always --
Jeanie
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December 16, 2009
Advent Musing -- Day 18
Seventeen years ago, Martus and I toured the Holy Land with a group of friends in the cold days after Christmas. On the way home, we stopped in Rome, and of course, part of our tour included the Vatican.
I had toured the Vatican before and so I decided that I would wander away from the group and find a quiet place. I was hoping for a small chapel where I could simply sit and be, and so I wandered through the basilica, seeking solitude and silence. I did find a small chapel and made my way to a seat at the back.
Weary from the days of travel and sightseeing, I closed my eyes and began to relax. Suddenly, I heard the faint sounds of what seemed to be an angelic chorus and I opened my eyes. Gradually, the singing became louder, but never too loud, and closer until finally a group of nuns processed into the chapel where I was.
"Oh Come, All Ye Faithful," they sang, except in Latin. I was absolutely charmed by the sight of the nuns, but mostly by their singing. Soon, people in the chapel joined their singing, in different languages, and finally, so did I. Singing with those nuns, all of us sounded good!
I couldn't have bought that experience in a trinket shop or at one of the ever-present kiosks around St. Peter's basilica. It was serendipity, through and through. I left my tour group, seeking the quiet, but was given something I will never forget.
Leaving St. Peter's that day and walking through the crowds of people gathered from all over the world, I was struck once again by the exquisite reality that all over the world there were people singing carols in many different language. All over the world, people had gathered to re-enact the Christmas story, read it from the Bible and tell it to their children and their children's children in a multitude of languages. The old, old story of Jesus' birth has gone around the world for over two centuries, and yet, we still tell it and sing it year after year.
I am so grateful that my tradition celebrates the Nativity Story. I need to re-member it over and over, and I need to hear the angels and nuns and children beckon me to come and adore him. When I hear the invitation, "Come, all ye faithful", I need to make my way to the celebration.
Each of us can choose to be one of the faithful that keeps on returning to the old, old story of Jesus' birth. Returning keeps me full of faith.
What about you? When have you been surprised by an unexpected event that enriched your life?
When have you been weary and worn out, and something has broken through to give you life?
What memories come back to you even now to make you smile and give you pleasure?
May this day be filled with something akin to angelic choruses for you....and grace, always --
Jeanie |
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December 15, 2009
Advent Musing -- Day 17
When I was young, my mother found a music box with a Santa on it. When we wound it up, the music box played "Jingle Bells" and the Santa turned round and round. She loved that music box.
At some point, the music box found its way to my home, and we wound it up over and over for our three daughters. Finally, we wore the winding part out and we thought that perhaps the music box had served its purpose. There was something in me that couldn't let go of the Santa, though, and so I retrieved him from a terrible fate. This year he's presiding over the shelf above my kitchen sink, surrounded by miniature poinsettias and a few of the angels from my collection. Every time I look at him, I smile.
My father was a minister and my mother had a deep sense of reverence for those things that are sacred and holy. In the midst of it all, however, she never lost her sense of playfulness, and so it was that Santa figures were a part of our fairly modest Christmas decorations. This Santa, the one that used to twirl on the music box, has never lost his mischievous expression. He reminds me of my mother.
There were things I wasn't allowed to do when I was growing up, but for the most part, my parents had a pretty balanced attitude about "worldly things". I'm forever grateful that they never did become, as my friend Betsy Goss said, "so heavenly they were of no earthly use." I'm glad that they didn't banish Santa from our celebration. I'm glad that they enjoyed the Easter bunny and that even though they never did really get into Halloween, they let me have my fun with it.
"Watch extremes," my dad always said, and I've tried to do that.
At Christmas, however, I am reminded again and again that when it comes to loving, giving and forgiving, God is outrageous, extravagant and lavish, and as far as I can tell he goes to extremes to show us that love. God is the Generous One, the greatest giver of life and love and laughter, and by introducing me to that image of God, my parents gave me the best gift of all.
So it is that my Santas are placed with the Nativity sets and the angels around my house, and all of them remind me of the extravagant love available to us human instruments to pass on to someone else.
What human instrument has revealed God's extravagant love to you?
What person has given you the gift of laughter, the joy of playfulness, the exquisite blessing of delight?
Grace -- in abundance -- to you --
Jeanie |
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