St. Andrew's-Wesley United Church

Rev. Gary Paterson

December 21, 2008

When her labour was finished… the contractions, the crying, the blood; when the pain was already a receding memory, gentled away by the holding of her baby, what was Mary feeling? When she beheld the miracle of her newborn, cupping his head so carefully, softly urging his mouth to her breast, what was Mary thinking? Before any visitors, when the stable was quiet, Joseph standing beside her in love, the animals chewing their cud, what was Mary pondering?

Perhaps she was remembering the ancient stories of her people, of how it all began. Looking at this little baby boy, maybe she heard those words from Genesis, “Let us make human beings in our image…”, and as she looked into Jesus’ struggling-to-focus eyes, did she catch a glimpse of holiness, the miracle that is every baby? Perhaps she recalled the story of God taking dirt, and like a potter shaping a human being out of the stuff of this earth, and then breathing life into this new creation -- consciousness and freedom, flesh and spirit fused, inextricably one. And perhaps like God, she too cried out, “Behold! It is very good!”

And because Mary liked to sing, perhaps she would have turned to music to offer her thanks and praise, her amazement at this little child in her arms. And if she had known the hymns of Brian Wren, maybe this is what she might have sung:

Good is the flesh that the Word has become,

good is the birthing, the milk in the breast,

good is the feeding, caressing and rest,

good is the body for knowing the world,

good is the flesh that the word has become.

Good is the body for knowing the world,

sensing the sunlight, the tug of the ground,

feeling, perceiving, within and around,

good is the body, from cradle to grave,

good is the flesh that the Words has become.

Good is the body, from cradle to grave,

growing and aging, arousing, impaired,

happy in clothing, or lovingly bared,

good is the pleasure of God in our flesh,

good is the flesh that the Word has become.

Good is the pleasure of God in our flesh,

longing in all, as in Jesus, to dwell,

glad of embracing, and tasting, and smell,

good is the body, for good and for God,

good is the flesh that the Word has become.
(Brian Wren, “Good Is the Flesh”)

Surely Mary was also thinking about her visitation, the moment of wings and dawn, when the angel Gabriel had arrived with his news: “Fear not, be not afraid! You have found favour with God. You shall give birth to a son, and you shall call him Jesus. And he shall be called Messiah, Christos – and he will bring healing and wholeness to all people; he will bring salvation.” She remembered saying “Yes!”, yes to God’s dream. But now, did she believe this promise? Did she trust that the Holy Spirit was somehow moving within this birth, in her womb, in the labour, in her milk? Did she wonder if this baby were somehow different? No one would ever know, would they, looking at this little one, needing the breast, clean diapers and lullabies?

Mary would have been amazed if she could have imagined what others would say about her son, long after he had left home and gone wandering in the world. What would it have been like to hear her boy called Rabbi, Teacher and Master; and Prophet, Mystic and Healer; Man of God, man filled with God, so filled with God that whatever was within him overflowed, spilling over, refreshing all who gathered around like water springing forth in dry deserts; like light shining bright, illuminating the way, dispersing the shadows. And what would Mary have thought when those women and men stumbled on the limits of language to describe their experience of this Jesus, in whose presence they felt so deeply connected with God, when they stretched their metaphors and cried out, “This Jesus is the Lamb of God, the Light of the World, the Bread of Life.”; when they proclaimed, “And the Word became flesh and lived among us, and we have seen his glory, the glory as of a father’s only son, full of grace and truth… No one has ever seen God. It is God the Only Son, who is close to the Father’s heart, who has made him known.”

Mary would have been puzzled and confused at how a few centuries later men… and it was only men … tried to articulate the meaning of Jesus, at how the theologians, steeped in Greek ways of thinking, would try to describe her son: fully human and fully divine; two natures, yet one person; begotten, not created. It was when they waxed on about the virgin’s womb that she might have smiled quietly to herself, saying, “Those men….” But she would have understood what they were trying to explain, that here, in this Jesus, they encountered Holiness as never before; that here in this person was as much of God as a human being could encompass, embody; here, precisely in this flesh, this life story, they experienced a revelation of who God was, of how God dreamed, of what God would bring about. And if they used strange language, well, how else can human beings talk about those wondrous, disturbing moments when we come face to face with the Divine Energy within which we live and move and have our being; when God is revealed?

Perhaps Mary would have remembered an ancient story of her people, the holy dream of angels that was given to her ancestor Jacob. Remember him? Good old Jacob, a young man on the make, determined to be successful, willing to cut corners, use his elbows, do what it took to get ahead in life. But eventually everything came crashing down around him, and he was on the lam, having betrayed his father, and stolen from his brother; like an everyman, he was running with guilt, anxiety, fear, not knowing where his life was headed, not even what he was looking for. But it was exactly then that he received a vision -- he dreamed of a great ladder, stretching from the earth to heaven, filled with angels ascending and descending, messengers of light linking this world to transcendence. And when he awoke from his God-filled sleep, he shouted, “Surely the LORD is in this place – and I did not know it…. This is none other than the house of God, and this is the gate of heaven.” And Mary would say, “My son, this Jesus, he too is a ladder, connecting all of us to God. Just open the gate, and go walking into a new way of living, full of glory, full of grace and truth.”

Isn’t that we our restless hearts yearn for? -- something, someone that we can see, taste, and touch; flesh of our flesh, bone of our bone; in whom and through whom we come to know that Mystery, this God for whom our hearts are restless. In Jesus we find ourselves leaning into God, hungry for holiness; in Jesus we discover God leaning towards us, in grace and love, offering relationship, “longing in all, as in Jesus, to dwell.”

Because Mary liked to sing, perhaps she would have turned to music to offer her understanding of what this little child in her arms might offer; and if she had known the music of Shirley Erena Murray, maybe this is what she might have sung:

Star-Child, earth-Child, go-between of God,

love Child, Christ Child, heaven’s lightning rod;

hope-for-peace Child, God’s stupendous sign,

down-to-earth Child, Star of stars that shine:

This year, this year let the day arrive

when [God’s love/Christmas] comes for everyone,

everyone alive.
(Shirley Erena Murray, Hope Publishing Company)

When Mary held her little baby Jesus did she imagine what was yet to come? It is never easy to be God’s go-between, connecting humanity and God --was she already worried about the days to come, intuiting that for all the fine words that men would use to talk about her son, they would also feel disturbed, threatened, and angry? Did she suspect that people would turn away from the gift; that they would refuse his invitation? Was she already feeling the terrible pain of having to bury her child?

Because Mary like to sing, maybe she would have turned to the manger, and taken this little baby into her arms; in the quiet, before any visitors, maybe she would rocked him gently, singing her hope and her fear. If she had known the words of Martin Bell, maybe this is what she might have sung:

Who could have dreamed that this little baby,

Here in the manger, crying for his momma --

Who could have dreamed that this little baby

Would change the course of the world?

All too soon he’ll be leaving his momma.

Striding along by the banks of the river.

Calling to fishermen who follow, bewildered.

Changing the course of the world.

The stars shine bright.

What do they know? Is there a secret they keep?

O Holy Night. The child shivers so.

What fearful thought disturbs his sleep?

Could it be the same little baby

All alone and fasting in the desert?

While all about the countryside his people are starving.

How can he change the world?

Is this my child surrounded by people?

Walking with men who wish they’d never met him!

Is this my baby? And how can they believe him?

How can he change the world?

Another village. Another crowd of people.

High on a hill, he’s preaching like a madman.

If he doesn’t stop, I swear they’re going to kill him.

He can’t change the world.

The stars shine bright.

What do they know?

Is there a secret they keep?

O Holy Night. The child shivers so.

What fearful thought disturbs his sleep?

The time will come when he’ll ride into the city

Though all his friends say to stay out on the mountain.

Riding alone. Shattering illusion.

[That’s how he’ll] change the course of the world.

Hush-a-bye, go to sleep little baby

Here in the manger, safe beside your momma.

Only the angels who watch as you’re sleeping

Know that you’ll change the world.

And tonight the silent stars behold him.

Shining their brightest to try to keep from crying.

Did they guess? Or have the angels told them

The price of changing the world?

The stars shine bright.

What do they know?

Is there a secret they keep?

O Holy Night. The child shivers so.

What fearful thought disturbs his sleep?

Today other mommas are holding their children.

Children who’ll grow up and follow where he leads them.

God have mercy, and comfort all the mommas

Of children who change the world.
(Martin Bell, from The Way of the Wolf)

Mary’s heart was full; as are ours. But good is the pleasure of God in our flesh, as we seek to follow this go-between child; and the stars are shining bright.