Advent 2: Mary

 

The light that beckoned Mary, at The Annunciation, was not bathed in a mellow, reassuring glow.  Rather, it was a light, (one, we are told she willingly responded to), that led her into a life of challenge.  She, undoubtedly, lived it with deep love and faithfulness, yet her heart was pierced as with a sword.

In her day, so young and unwed, she became something of a scandal in out of the way Nazareth.  In ours, I suspect, the Safeguarding Officer would be contacted.  I find it increasingly difficult to romanticise this part of the Christmas Story away.  She is so young, at times so alone and often the challenges before her seem truly overwhelming.

Which makes her life of faithfulness even more inspiring.

Many of us have made vows and promises at the start of some great endeavour.  I suspect, whether they were vows made at our wedding, baptism, confirmation or ordination we made them with great sincerity.

Upon hearing her call, as the light beckoned her into a new and truly amazing future, Mary said: I will’, and became the handmaid of The Lord.  We are so thrilled the story doesn’t stop there.  As the years unfold, she cares for her son: at the Wedding feast in Canaan, she told the steward to do all Jesus told him.  And on Good Friday, in the absence of so many disciples, she keeps watch at the foot of the cross.  Loving, faithful and true to the end.  Mary kept her vows and fulfilled them completely.  She does not just begin well, she ends well.

The light that beckoned Mary was not soft, warm and gentle.  It was one that led her into a life of great challenge and personal sacrifice.

Mary lived in that conundrum of the Kingdom of God being both ‘now’ and ‘not yet’.  As a Jew she would have rejoiced in the stories with which she grew up of a homeless people, once slaves, wandering in the Wilderness, then finding a God given home.  Yet, her generation knew the reality of occupation by the Romans.  And Mary, as a young girl whose pregnancy was misunderstood, knew what it was to be personally and hurtfully marginalised.  The words of The Magnificat were never mere theory from her lips.  She knew the reality of every syllable.  She was part of the oppressed and downtrodden, she lived in that space between the Kingdom’s ‘now’ and ‘not yet’, a space we can only occupy with faith.

Yet, she believed.  Yet, she trusted.  Yet, she sang.  Yet, she loved.  Yet, she kept on turning up!