God sent the angel Gabriel to Nazareth with a message for Mary, who was promised in marriage to Joseph. The angel told Mary that she would have a son, whom she was to name Jesus. Mary asked how this could be as she was a virgin. When Matthew and Luke wrote their gospels they did so independently, using different sources and eyewitnesses. They also came from different backgrounds. A s Advent near s, Christians wait for the child to come. We count the days and prepare for celebrations.
In our preparation, though, we can neglect the gestation. Nativity scenes center on a bloodless and unattached child in the manger. We skip straight from Ordinary Time to anticipation to infancy, neglecting to dwell on the precious journey of the figure Christians for centuries have venerated as Maria Gravida—Mary, Mother-to-Be.
What did Mary feel in pregnancy, labor and birth? Did she have pain? Some mothers do more than others, and the canonical Gospels are sparse with details. Many of the church fathers, from Augustine to Aquinas , held that Mary, free of sin, was surely spared the pain of childbirth. The apocryphal Protoevangelium of James depicts Joseph seeing Mary, nearing active labor, apparently suffering and then suddenly laughing.
The Qura n—which refers to Mary more than the New Testament itself does—describes her leaning against a date tree in agony during labor, to the point of preferring that she were dead. But she has the aid of an angelic doula; a voice from the ground announces that God has run a stream beneath her and instructs her to shake the tree so its ripe dates will fall. In , clinical researchers in Jordan reported a correlation between eating dates during pregnancy and higher mean cervical dilation.
Another common interpretation of that passage identifies the woman in the sky with the church—ever in labor to manifest her savior. Pope Benedict XVI has insisted that there need not be any contradiction in accepting that she stands for this and for Mary, both.
She represents a Hebrew girl 2, years ago no less than she represents us, now—especially at this time of year, when we can accompany that girl in her strange, miraculous pregnancy. The pregnancy of Mary, this year, coincides with pangs of violence in the land where she gave birth. Bethlehem overlooks the Palestinian sprawl of East Jerusalem and the manicured Israeli settlements scattered throughout it.
Just to the north, along an apartheid wall covered with militant graffiti, the Aida refugee camp has stood for 65 years and counting. Closer to home, the United States remains one of the few countries in the world that does not guarantee paid maternity leave.
God may have dispatched legions to defend the woman in the sky and her child, but too few American mothers have even the protection of time. We often treat pregnancy and birth as a k ind of disorder, resulting in a Caesarian section rate of more than 3 0 percent—twice the national rate that the World Health Organization recommends.
Perhaps we need to meditate more on the active work of Advent, not just the waiting. We can walk with the Mother of God through her pregnancy and labor, then meet her child while he is still covered in blood and tied to her with an umbilical cord. We can be her, her midwives, her doulas. Website: TheRowBoat. What an astonishing comment. Thank you for it. So we can drink the blood of Christ every Mass, but we cannot fathom the blood that occasioned his Incarnation?
We can venerate the wound in his side but not the stretch marks of his mother? We can eat his body but not speak of the organs that held it in place during gestation? Surely these wonders of his mother's body are not the insult Saint Peter Chrysologus spoke of. What is our faith if her blessed labor could possibly cause us to lose it? I can agree with you that the Incarnation should make us speechless, but I hope that the moment of this great miracle and mystery and gift does not leave us cold.
If such squeamish docetism is what the Jesuits have become associated with, then good riddance to it. Thank you for sharing this beautiful reflection—the unnamed midwives, and the intention of Francis to "set before our bodily eyes in some way the inconveniences of his infant needs. Reproduction in whole or in part without permission is prohibited.
Visit BUZZ. Tina Campbell of Mary Mary is a busy, working mom in the music and entertainment world. Having baby number 5 at such a crucial time in her career is unplanned and feels somewhat overwhelming, but she and husband Teddy know they are blessed to be fruitful and multiply. Image Source: Kontrol Magazine.
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