Mary's Badass Blue Christmas Guide
Scripture: Luke 1
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Blue Christmas could have been the theme for Advent this year. We find ourselves in a year we never imagined, a global pandemic, for which we were woefully unprepared and our national response has laid our broken systems bare before our eyes and the world. It is a year of grief upon grief, because as the pandemic rages we experience our human heartbreak. The vulnerabilities of sickness and loss are with us always. Perhaps your heartbreak has a name like Pam or Cecil or Jon-Jon or Paul, the name of one you love whose death wakes that place of ache for their presence within you very soul. Perhaps your heart break is in relationship, divorce, separation, loss or tension. This is a season when our relationships have to endure not only the normal tenderness we carry and the heaviness of the world. The never ending election drama might just be enough to put us in a blue Christmas mood but we also have a seasons where dreams and plans are on hold. Folks have lost jobs, businesses have closed or many still wait for that new opportunity to open up after their graduation. Milestones have been hard to mark and celebrations are a little more Zoomtastic than ever and it is makes us all at least a little blue.
Perhaps this season is hard and perhaps you have experienced hard holidays before. Maybe you have moved home and put up your Christmas tree in your parent’s basement hoping your soon to be ex-husband would change his mind and show up “Love Actually” style with cards and “Carol Singers” to profess his love for the future you planned, maybe that was just my 26 year old experience. Perhaps you sang Blue Christmas and really meant every word. Perhaps you have had a year that you don’t want to talk about in a Christmas card and maybe putting up your tree has been an act of determination in the face of every reason to just curl up in a ball. If this is your Christmas, you are not alone. If you don’t feel shiny or jolly this year remember this is how Christmas started. The first Christmas was blue, and I mean dark blue. So we gather in good company even if it doesn’t feel good. When I think of how do we show up when there is every reason to be afraid, how do we show up when our hearts are broken and our dreams are on hold, I think of Mary.
As we approach Christmas of 2020 with resilience and courage in the face of every reason to give up, I think of Mary. She was pregnant when she shouldn’t be in a world where the danger wasn’t just rude comments and economic disadvantage, but ending her life was a real possibility and her best option was a man dismissing her quietly…whatever that entailed. Mary’s story is singular and powerful in so many ways. An Angel appears to Mary and says, “Do Not Be Afraid.” Which is pretty much what angels are always saying in scripture. Every time they show up they have to say don’t be afraid or fear not, which raises some questions about their aesthetics! Perhaps they are not actually the stuff of Hallmark Cards or Precious Moments.
Anyway, Mary encountered this terrifying creature, was not afraid, asked what sort of greeting is this and then got some really terrifying news… you are going to be pregnant in a world where that is dangerous. And Mary responded, “Here am I.” This is a badass prophetic response, there is no other way to say it. She is almost singular in this response to God’s big ask, almost all of the other prophets negotiate with God. Jeremiah wasn’t up for it. Jonah said no and then got in a boat going the opposite direction until he ended up in the belly of a great fish. Moses, the hero, went on and on spilling a lot of ink in his objection to being a part of God’s work. Mary responded, “Here am I.” She didn’t negotiate the incursion of God’s call, she didn’t try to arrange it so it would be more palatable or fit her plans. She didn’t say, “sure, can we wait six months until I finish this degree program” or “have you met my cousin…you would love her.” She didn’t ask if this comes with benefits or superpowers or if God had worked some things out with Joseph. She just says, “Here am I” like a total badass. She is a prophet, which is not how we often see her, she looks so quite, looking down in our nativity scenes. We have dressed her up in pastels and made her more mommy than prophet, more lullaby than power ballad, more meek that badass, like she can’t be both. Mary looks fear in the eyes and says, “Here am I.” How did she do this?
I believe there is a hint and a guide for us in her song, the Magnificat. It is a song from her faith. She cultivated a life of faith, a life of reading the scriptures and studying the words of the prophets, singing the songs of her tradition. She learned to look with Moses for the burning bush in a world of shrubbery, she imagined God as a mother bear protecting her young, she read psalms of heartbreak and resilience, and she practiced the song of gratitude and learned to sing it even when things looked bleak. She cultivated a life of faith, she knew her resilience and her strength, and when the world suggested every reason to be afraid, she was not. So she sang this song of her tradition; it wasn’t just her song. It had also been on the lips of Hannah at the start of Samuel. Hannah was a woman who longed for a child and dwelled in a world that judged her worth as based only in how many children she birthed - and the more sons the better. She knew her worth, she could say to her husband, “Am I not worth 12 sons to you?,” but the answer didn’t stop the hurt hurled her way from the community around her. Hannah sang this song of gratitude, even after all of this hurt and even after having a child and then gifting him to the work of the community - she still sang a song of Thanksgiving.
I imagine Mary learning that song from her Auntie Elizabeth, which is the second key learning from Mary: take time to be with the people who love you. Mary goes to see her Auntie Elizabeth and commentators for generations have made this about Jesus meeting his cousin, John the Baptist. But most of those writers didn’t grow up being terrified by the idea of being a pregnant teenager or the knowledge that when you are scared you might go find your favorite aunt. Mary went to her Auntie Elizabeth and received a blessing immediately. She did not go to the Aunt that said, “Oh your future was so bright…how disappointing” or “this baby is going to be expensive, I’ve clipped you some extra coupons.” Mary went to the one who loved her, who blessed her without conditions. Elizabeth knew Hannah’s story mirrored her own. I imagine her in her years of waiting for a child blessing the little ones in the family around her, teaching them songs and telling them stories. Mary knew Elizabeth was a safe space in this risky time and so she went to be with her, to take refuge and comfort as she prepared for the work ahead. This safe space and deep love, I believe, does wonders for our souls and our resilience. Mary leads by example, with her very life she tell us to take time to soak it in. This Blue Christmas we must find the people who love us and soak in their presence. This Blue Christmas, if we are able, we must find moments to be that presence to others, to be Mary’s favorite Auntie and say, Blessed are you to a hurting heart.
One final learning I want to lift up from Mary and her song is the first line. It says, “My soul magnifies the Lord.” I help you see God - this pregnant woman who shouldn’t be pregnant says, “I help you see God.” This woman is incredibly vulnerable in a world that despises vulnerability, says I help you see God. She was not ashamed she was sacred. She was not alone; none of the work was her work it was God’s work with her. She took courage that the path was one she should take with God’s love in and around and through her.
Christmas is a testament to our resilience. A testament to a hard earned hope and joy that is not cheap or easy. Christmas has always been a glimpse into the hard spaces where God is at work in us and through us in the world. Hard spaces are sacred. We must name them, claim them and honor how they help us see God in each other and the world. So this season, cultivate a life of faith like Mary, check in with your favorite Auntie (even if it's on Zoom) and know that you are beloved and beautiful, you, in all of your imperfection help us all see God. We in our vulnerability and our imperfections point towards the divine love, may we have the courage to look.
May we have Mary’s Courage. May it be so. Amen.