“Blessed are you among women, and blessed
is the fruit of your womb.” (Luke 1:43)
Blessed? It doesn’t feel that way at
times, does it? Just speaking as a guy,
I don’t know how you women do it. I mean, how can you be so patient with a
human being growing inside you? You put on weight, your hormones go berserk,
you have to pee all the time, your ankles swell up. And then there’s the constant
vigilance. One of the girls in our high school youth group was just doing a
project which required her to carry around a 10 lb. bag of flour and
care for it like it was a human infant. She had to make sure the bag was never out of her sight. I guess this was
a shot over her teen aged bow to let her know that motherhood is a ton of work.
Shoot. If men had to have babies the human
race would be doomed.
So why are the two women we meet in the
Gospel lesson for Advent 4, Year C (Luke 1:39-45) so freakin’ happy? It’s a
secret those of my gender will never understand or appreciate. It’s a woman
thing. But it’s also a God thing. It’s another example of God knocking
everything this sinful, stupid (and often male-dominated) world thinks is proper
right on its butt.
If you look at this story in the world of
the text, both of these ladies are outcasts in their own way—and neither of
them is supposed to be pregnant! Here’s Elizabeth. People think she’s
post-menopausal. As I suggested in my post on the Feast of John the Baptist[i], all of the other priests’
wives must’ve whispered behind their hands in the beauty parlor when Mrs.
Zechariah came in. “Poor dear,” they’d say. “She can’t have children. She must
be cursed of God, bless her heart.” And I’m sure Zechariah and Elizabeth felt
the sting of their childlessness. Zechariah might even have had a few sleepless
nights wondering who would take care of Elizabeth if he should die and she be
left without a son to take her in. But God—taking his own sweet time about it
as God is wont to do—provides her with a blessing in her old age.
And then there’s Our Lady, Mary. She
shouldn’t be pregnant either. She’s not married. In the world of this text she
could be “put away,” or stoned to death as an adulteress. Yet the “fruit of her
womb” brings this moment of unparalleled joy. Even before the baby is born, the
promise is felt.
This is the great paradox of Advent/Christmas: the cursed and outcast are
rejoicing. In their mutual distress, they find a joy in each other and a joy in
the Lord. If you think about it, it’s great that they’re together. Elizabeth
gets a strong, young helper to assist her through her pregnancy, and Mary gets
a preview of what she’s to experience.
This is a story of defiant joy, or—more
appropriately—hope. These women are teaching us that our spiritual life is
never about what happens to us. It’s only about how we choose to embrace it. They
embrace it believing in the fulfillment of God’s promise for those God loves.
We’re all like kids at Christmastime, aren’t
we? We just can’t wait for God to put things right. We’re impatient for
blessings. We look at the world and the growing darkness and we wonder, when is
God going to get around to fixing this crazy-assed stuff? When will my prayers
be answered?
I certainly can’t tell you that, but I know
that, like Elizabeth and Mary, the most important thing is to keep believing.
God’s time is not ours, nor is God’s logic ours. What appears to be a curse can
turn into a miracle. It is certain that we’ll never see God’s blessing if we
give up looking and praying for it.
May God’s peace be with you, my friend.
Keep hoping.
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