Wild Mary

I’ve been captivated this Christmas by different artwork depicting Mary the mother of Jesus: sometimes alone, sometimes with Elizabeth, sometimes with Jesus, sometimes medieval, or iconography, or modern interpretations, time and again different artists finding in her story their own invitation to receive Immanuel, God with us. 

 

(Artist: Scott Erikson - he has a beautiful Advent reflection book with his artwork which is well worth your time)

God with us – those have been the words I’ve chewed over and over this year, when we’ve not been able to celebrate by having anyone else with us, when in so many ways we have never been so alone. Mary, who with Joseph faced government regulations that put her out of her comfort zone and security net, to go and birth alone and unsupported. It’s in that place of isolation, anxiety and fear that God chooses to show up. It makes me wonder whether this here and now is also where he wants to show up for us too. What does it look like for God to show up for us here, this Christmas 2020? Maybe like Mary, we slow down and notice, and carry all these things in our hearts. Maybe like the shepherds, we hear good news and it leads us to worship. Maybe like the kings, we follow the light and it leads us to generosity and giving. Maybe we go into the wild, unknown dangerous places and discover that is where God was planning to show up all along.

                     (Artist unknown)

Going into the wild is dangerous. As Barbara Brown Taylor puts it, ‘if there isn’t real danger then you aren’t in the wilderness, you are in the park.’ That first Christmas, in her angelic visitation, Mary was invited out of the pedestrian, out of the ordinary, into dangerous territory where no one else had ever been before. Mary faces fear, damage to her social standing and security, and a physical journey of danger into the unknown where she is pushed to her limits.

(Painting: 'The Windsock Visitation' by br O'Neil McGrath OSFS)

Mary is a wild mother – going out into the places no one has been before. There is no returning from here. She will be changed forever by this journey, leaving home, perhaps birthing unsupported, cut off from her community, finally arriving to find no room for her.

I think of 2020’s new mothers, the ones attending maternity appointments alone, the ones labouring and birthing with no partner to encourage and hold their hands, the ones who have received news of miscarriage without support. We are in wild and dangerous places.

                           (Artist: Scott Erikson)

If Christmas 2020 is taking us somewhere we’ve never been before, so was the very first Christmas. Jesus leaves the safety of heaven to go on an adventure into the wildness of earth, of humanity in the midst of chaos and oppression. I have a hypothesis that Jesus doesn’t remember what that incarnation was like, He was a baby, He was there, but doesn’t know. It’s scary to enter into the ‘unknowing’ of God. That is the shock of the Incarnation. We enter into the self-limiting of God. We don’t know where we’re going, we’re heading out into the wild, Jesus too has entered into the unknown. The good news is, Jesus does know where we are now, where we go from here. Corrie Ten Boom wisely encourages us, ‘Never be afraid to trust an unknown future to a known God.’

                       (Artist: Scott Erikson) 

God invites us into the wild, to go on a journey there is no coming back from. We will be irrevocably marked by it. He will be our companion, as he was for the disciples on the Emmaus Road. He knows where to find water in the wilderness like he did for Moses, provides food like for Elijah, place to rest like for David, even when surrounded by lions and bears. He provides angels to care for and protect us.

                  (Artist: Harmonia Rosales)

Wildness is dangerous, but then so is comfort. Research is discovering more all the time about the dangers of a sedentary lifestyle, about how we need to push ourselves into the uncomfortable in order to function well. A lifetime of eating too much of the calorie dense, nutrient poor foods we turn to for comfort, and staying snuggled up inside, will not end well. We need to sweat, ache, get out of breath, eat plenty of fibre and vitamins for our bodies to function fully. Comfort is not as safe as it makes us feel.

Apparently it is measureable that the further north into Arctic circle you go, the more positive people are about darkness and winter. We may feel miserable about the nights drawing in, and the cold, but countries who live with almost constant darkness in winter have had to adapt their approach. We benefit from the Scandinavian concepts like hygge – cosying up in the dark with candles and blankets and connection, and ‘no bad weather, just bad clothing’.

Like those living in the far north reframe the dark and cold, we have the opportunity to reframe the wildness. The wildness is not just scary and bad, but opportunity for adventure, life, new discovery.

 What happens when we reframe the danger that we face, when we reimagine how we understand the information we receive from the danger?

              (Artist: Everett Patterson)

This summer I’ve discovered the joys of wild swimming – in the sea, in lakes and rivers: the horror of biting cold when you get in that is quickly surpassed by the exhilaration and endorphin rush that pushes all distractions and worries out of your mind and keeps you fully present in the moment. It makes me feel fully alive, so joyful. I’ve been attempting to replicate that exhilaration by ending my shower with a quick blast of cold. I am not a cold water person. I love comfort. I live to be wrapped up warm and cosy. The thought of a cold shower is anathema to me. But if I close my eyes, and imagine I’m stood under a waterfall on the beach in St Ives, somehow what was awful becomes awesome. I love it.

 I wonder, in the middle of the experiences that are dangerous, that are confusing and that hurt, whether it is possible to reframe and ask God to reveal us the adventure and the potential there too, maybe even to show us joy.

                    (Artist: Natalie Lennard)

Somehow, in the middle of her wild journey, Mary responds with joy, with exuberance at what God can do. This is not often how we receive difficult words from God. Mary connects with the truth given to her – Immanuel, God is with us. Joy is important this year, more than ever. Can we find joy in a more simple, pared back Christmas, in the presence of Immanuel, God who is truly here to be with us?

 2020 has not just been the year of Coronavirus, but a year of exposing injustices and dysfunctional power dynamics that impact our environment and how we treat each other. It’s been the year of George Floyd and ‘I can’t breathe’, the year when Marcus Rashford battles government to alleviate child poverty, and where Stacey Abrams can register 800,000 voters to give them a voice in a democracy that has left them unheard.

It’s not just a bad year, it won’t end when the clock strikes midnight on New Years Eve. It’s uncomfortable, it’s dangerous, it’s wild, but we are being given the opportunity to reimagine a world that works for more than just the most privileged. Like Mary, we are invited to be part of birthing a new future where the mighty are brought low and the hungry are filled with good things. Mary’s Magnificat is a striking, revolutionary manifesto from a small village girl living under foreign oppressors. It’s a call for justice, for equality, for those who exploit and damage and abuse to be stopped in their tracks and called to account.

                         ^{(Artist: Ben Wildflower, Magnificat)}

⁴⁶ And Mary said:

‘My soul glorifies the Lord
⁴⁷     and my spirit rejoices in God my Saviour,
⁴⁸ for he has been mindful
    of the humble state of his servant.
From now on all generations will call me blessed,
⁴⁹     for the Mighty One has done great things for me –
    holy is his name.
⁵⁰ His mercy extends to those who fear him,
    from generation to generation.
⁵¹ He has performed mighty deeds with his arm;
    he has scattered those who are proud in their inmost thoughts.
⁵² He has brought down rulers from their thrones
    but has lifted up the humble.
⁵³ He has filled the hungry with good things
    but has sent the rich away empty.
⁵⁴ He has helped his servant Israel,
    remembering to be merciful
⁵⁵ to Abraham and his descendants for ever,
    just as he promised our ancestors.’ (Luke 1)

 Jesus comes into our world, and the status quo is turned on its head. The King of Kings is not found in the palace, but the stable. The Wise Men bow low, shepherds hear the Good News first, women are elevated and given a voice.

Mary begins by glorifying God, welcoming His presence with her, rejoicing at how His coming begins to turns things right way round again, restoring equality, mercy and goodness.

Into the misogyny, white supremacy, rampant capitalism, ableism and exploitation, Jesus puts on flesh and moves in. We welcome His presence and He stirs us both to pray and to use our physical bodies to create change.

                        (Artist unknown)

I wonder what has been difficult/ painful/ dangerous for you this year? Ask God to show you what lese has been happening through that. Is there a way He wants to reframe that for you? Is there any joy/ exhilaration to be found there after all?

I wonder what are the things you resort to for comfort? Are they life giving or do they restrict you? Is there an adventure God is calling you into that maybe difficult but energising?

 Are there justice issues God has put on your heart to pray for this year? Through the incarnation Jesus comes into the world and puts flesh on, he embodies and acts out his justice. Is there a way you can embody and act out your prayers by taking practical action?