Every year around this time, someone inevitably refers to me as the Grinch. Why, you ask? Largely because I do not enjoy the "holiday season" like most people do. I like watching people get excited about decorating their homes with lights, lawn ornaments, bows, and shiny paper. I like seeing new babies drowning in those big red hats with the white fur trim. I like seeing the family portraits with the holiday background and if you send me one, I will put it on display in my living room. If that makes you happy and does not harm anyone in the process, then deck the halls and fa la la all you want, but please do not be offended when I am not inclined to follow suit.
As a child, I was never as interested in a tree and the boxes beneath it (like I didn't know that the biggest ones had underwear, tights, turtlenecks and socks? Santa my eye!) as I was in the story of the baby in the manger. My mother tells the story of how she was physically ill when she found out that there was no Santa. We don't share that experience. I'm not sure if I ever believed in Santa but it was not because my parents didn't try. I enjoyed the cartoons that meant Christmas was on the way and would fight you if you got in the way of Rudolph's Shiny New Year or The Year Without A Santa Claus! Okay, I digress...
Christmas has always been a lovely time of waiting for Mary's baby to be born. I always wondered why we had Christmas pageants and parties but never threw Mary a baby shower. I felt like we should have helped her get ready for the baby because that's what we do when a baby is coming into the world. She was married but she was still a teenager. And she sang that really cool song, the Magnificat (the one she learned from the liturgy of mothers who came before her...so...umm...where is the legacy of the women in this story?) Were the same angels we heard on high her midwives? Who caught Jesus as he came through the birth canal? No one ever answered those questions and no one seems to want to ask them but I've held them since childhood. So, I'll beg your forgiveness if I'm not singing and swinging and getting merry like Christmas as Mother Maya says. I'm waiting to see how the story turns out. I like Advent's call to quiet reflection and delicate anticipation. There are some parts of the story that I need to carefully consider because we may not see these scriptures in the Christian worship schedule until next year this time. Mary has all three trimesters in the course of four weeks! And then there's the thought of a pregnant teenager...umm...I'm a mother and teacher of teenage girls...I need a moment here. I want to hug Mary and protect her as the elder women are supposed to do. I want her to know that there is truth in the angel's proclamation that she is blessed and highly favored. But that as the bearer of the Word, I need her testimony. I need Mary to be okay. I need Mary to know that she is my model for what a woman in ministry looks like. She is the bearer of the WORD. That word will speak long after lights blow out and tinsel loses its shine.
So, if you don't mind, I'd like to think on these things. I'll sip egg nog if you invite me but you won't find a tree in front of my fireplace. I'll sing a carol or two if you ask me to join in with your reindeer games but as for me and my house, we are waiting for our turn to hold the baby. The stores will be open after December 25th and the sales will be better. So, you see, I'm not the Grinch who stole Christmas. I'm the woman who is keeping watch over Mary until she delivers the baby who delivered me!
Shalom!
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