Luke 2:1-20

I’ve never given birth. I’ve been present at the birth of several children. During those times I’m not even sure that my presence was deeply appreciated! It seems to me that the experience of bearing and birthing a child gives mothers a special insight into the wonder of the Incarnation, a special insight into Mary, the mother of the Son of God. I’d like to look at Mary in the Luke passage this morning as the model of the believer. The readings we did this morning extend the readings that we did last night. The story of the birth of Jesus presses on. While the passage ends with the shepherds returning back to work, we find right before a simple phrase about Mary: “And Mary kept all these things, pondering them in her heart.” I’ve always loved the quiet serenity of this verse. But in studying the text, the significance suddenly broke upon me for us today.

In Luke 2 from the perspective of his mother, Mary, Jesus’s birth has no marks of marvel around it: it is the struggle for survival.
We have images of angels, grand announcements birth, heavenly choirs, accompanying the birth of Jesus. We’ve seen nativity scenes with the whole group there, looking down on Mary and Joseph and the baby. The birth of Jesus seems set within the splendor and wonder of God.
But the text shows something different if we closely follow Mary. Oh yes, angels appear with an announcement of Jesus’ birth to Mary – but before the Spirit came upon her and she became pregnant. But in the birth narrative, what Mary experiences seems anything but one honored among women. First, there was the risk of pregnancy, not only the physical risk to her life by giving birth, but a social in being an unwed mother who continues with her pregnancy. An imperial census for taxation takes place. She has to travel by foot while pregnant. Do you have images of Mary riding on a donkey? No way. These people are to poor to have animals. When they get to Bethlehem, no extended family awaits them. They were isolated, alone, transients. Inns in antiquity were not nice places to begin with. If you knew anyone, you stayed with them in a house. Inns were dangerous, dirty places where people stayed who didn’t have any social reputation for others to want them to stay with them. Mary and Joseph are put with the animals, mostly likely in a cave. At least the heat of the animal bodies kept them warm amidst the stench of their bodies.
Then the text presumes Mary going into labor. No anaesthesia. No mention is made of a midwife to assist her, just Joseph. What about after delivery? Not to be crude, but births are pretty messy affairs, blood, water, placentas. She wraps the baby in clothes – most likely rags in that setting. Then she places the baby in a manger, an animal feeding trough. Would she even have had a change of cloths? Imagine the fatigue.

Where’s heavenly choirs cheering Mary on? Where’s God? God seems quiet to those who can’t see. God is fully there, not with angelical choruses, but in the fully human son of Mary, the Word made flesh. God is there to be tended to, cared for, nurtured, and fed, not as a cheerleader for Mary. The text presupposes that Mary is focused on survival throughout the birth narrative, her survival, her son’s survival. Mary has stayed true to her vow to God; she has been obedient. “I am the handmaiden of the Lord. Let it be to me according to your word.” The harsh reality of what that means becomes evident. There is nothing glamorous, heroic here. She is a poor young woman in conditions that calls for all the skills that she has merely in order to survive the poverty. The passage shows no special divine aura around Mary. She is alone with her husband to be, and her new born, Jesus, in squalid conditions.

As a matter of fact, Mary hears of the divine announcements about the birth of her Son, the messages celebrating the birth of Jesus from vagrant shepherds who show up to see what is going on.
There is no cyber birth announcements sent out by Mary and Joseph. They have no time, no funds, no resources. The birth announcement of of Jesus is given to them. Worse, it’s given to them by shepherds.
Shepherds? Catch the scene. Just after birth and strangers show up, persons you’ve never met before. It’s a nightmare scene, worse than the in-laws showing up when the baby is born!! Are they are shepherds! Forget the nice scenes from sanitized children’s programs. Everyone knew that shepherds were notorious losers. They were rough, uncouth, even dangerous. If they had any class, they would own land or at least have a trade. The shepherds are the ultimate in unskilled labor. We can’t trust what a shepherd says, everyone knows that!

“They made known the saying which had been told them concerning the child.” Wait a second -- the child? They say nothing about Mary. Mary’s done all the work; the child depends upon her. And did you hear their story? The glory of the Lord shown about them . . . sure, we know what they were smokin’. They have the experience of divine splendor while Mary’s giving birth. Mary knows that this was no evening at Disney Land. She lived it. She still struggling for survival with uninvited guests visiting amidst the animals. If we were Mary, can you hear our response? “Hey, I’m the mother. I just birthed this kid. This is dangerous – look, we’re so poor we’re stuck with the animals. You get the divine message about the kid? What’s in it for me? You are asking me to see my life in light of the child’s? No, this child should see his life in light of mine!” The only report Mary gets to interpret the event at the time of the birth of her Son comes from Shepherds, even as she still struggles for survival.

But the text says “And Mary kept all these things and pondered them in her heart.”

We look for the resentment from Mary; we look for competition with her son; we look for the complaining; we look for Mary missing that God had just done the most incredible thing by looking to God for help to survive her circumstances. We look for more angelic communication to her to reassure her, to build her up, to keep her continuing in the path of her vow.

But that’s not what happens. The witness of the shepherds about her Son was sufficient for Mary. Amidst struggle for survival, the divine interpretation of the birth only comes to her through others, shepherds mind you. Mary kept all these things, pondering them in her heart. The divine Word had come to her in her Son. The baby was sufficient testimony to the witness of the shepherds about God. The shepherd’s words were more important, more reliable than any imperial ambassadors, for the shepherd’s words found fulfillment with God’s Revelation in this baby. In response to the words, Mary turns them over and over; She reflects on what God had done for her in her obedient, humble faith, and through her, what God had done for the world in her Son, the son of David, the Savior, Christ the Lord. She contemplates the mystery of God revealed in her Son, the baby Jesus, after the shepherd’s speak to her.

There was no time for contemplation, no possibility for quiet in the midst of the birth. It’s hard to ponder with contractions coming every 30 seconds; it’s hard to reflect when trying to find a place to give birth without being hauled off for vagrancy. But the fullness of time came in the witness of the shepherds; and Mary recognized that God had pulled her into God’s redemption of Israel, of all humanity. Contemplation at the beginning of the journey, not knowing what was ahead, but knowing and trusting that God had been gracious to her and to all humanity in the newborn baby, poor though they were. Mary had to rethink, contemplate, digest and understand her own life now in light of the gift of God, her Son. This child was not significant because of Mary; Mary’s life bore significant in light of her child’s. This demands some reflection.

Mary receives the words of the shepherds, the descriptions of the heavenly throng’s words. And she mulls them over and over and over in faith in the deepest parts of her being.

We see then how Mary becomes a model for our lives, to ponder these words, the news of the birth of Jesus, Mary’s son, in the deepest parts of our being. What happens when we see our lives in light of the message of the angels that the shepherds shared with Mary? Jesus’ birth does not become significant in light of our lives; our lives, like Mary’s, take on significance in light of his. Therefore, our lives bear more significance than we could ever think or imagine because God has revealed God’s very Self in Mary’s child.

This coming of the Son doesn’t displace the fact that sometimes life is just a struggle for survival. God is not absent at these times. We do what we must, the immediate good that lies before us. We eat; we clean up; we care for children, making a living. The demand that we place upon ourselves for constant feelings of contentment, well-being, significance, is one of the hardest demands that we place upon our selves. We demand to have a life – which means to build significance of our life by our choices and we want God to make these tasks significant.

Please understand the difference with Mary’s vow: “Behold, I am the handmaiden of the Lord; let it be according to your word”. This is not a fatalism, but a call to the deep engagement of life as we face it. Sometimes that means hard labor, survival not as an end in itself, but as a good that allows us to be thankful in the conditions that we live rather than forced into resentment, complaint, sin. Please understand this. Sometimes we just need to act for survival, for the task at hand. We don’t have to act to make our lives significant.

But even amidst the struggle for survival, the difficulties that are real, hear the messengers of God that come with the message, not about us, but about God’s becoming human in Jesus. Ponder, contemplate, these things in your heart. See your life in light of God, God as revealed in the Son by the Spirit’s power. These are not divine bells and whistles, no spectacles of experiences to keep us going. But there is the quiet serenity that comes from reflection that God has revealed God’s self as a human in Jesus. Therefore, God shows us who we are, the profound significance of each one of our lives, all human lives, especially the lives of the poor, not in themselves, not for what we can do or don’t do, but because God has become human and dwelt among us in the person of Mary’s Son, Jesus. And this calls for pondering, for reflection, for understanding our own lives in light of God’s Revelation, rather than God in light of our lives. As the first believer in Jesus, Mary gives us a profound approach to life, pondering our lives, contemplating who we are, in light of God’s revelation to us in Jesus. Come, let us adore him. Come, in the bread and the cup, ponder these things in your heart. Come, and be thankful.