Mary, the Mother of Jesus - Christmas Eve, 2023

The angel Gabriel addressed her as “Favored one” (Luke 1:28). His word, in the original, described her as one who had received grace and was immersed in grace and would always be surrounded by grace. The word carried the idea of chosen. She had been chosen by God to be the mother of the Messiah. In the song of praise she sang—according to the gospel of Luke—Mary acknowledged that she would be called “blessed” throughout all generations (Luke 1:48).

The reality of her experience was far from the honor and privilege most expected for the mother of the long-awaited Messiah. It was not what most people would call “blessed.”

Rather than being honored as the mother of the messianic king, Mary bore the stigma of being pregnant and unmarried. That stigma would have included being shunned and shamed by the community in which she had grown up and, possibly, by her own family. (Other than her cousin Elizabeth, the gospels do not speak of her family.) She would have had to endure the whispers and the stares, the glances over the shoulder as people moved past her without acknowledging her, the isolation as childhood friends treated her as though she were a leper, the loneliness of having no one with whom she could share what she knew. Her isolation and loneliness would have been compounded by the anger and resentment, hostility and rejection she endured from Joseph to whom she was engaged to be married—emotions and reactions rooted in the sense of betrayal he undoubtedly felt.

Yet she was—as the language of the angel Gabriel suggested—surrounded by grace. Before the shunning and shaming began, before she experienced the isolation and loneliness, before she faced Joseph’s hurt and anger, God prepared her. God gave her one who was compassionate and understanding, one who was supportive and affirming. That one was her cousin Elizabeth. After the visit from the angel Gabriel, Mary “went with haste” to the home of Elizabeth and Zechariah in the Judean hill country (Luke 1:39). There, Elizabeth—drawing on her own experience of an unusual pregnancy (Luke 1:8-25) and on the response of her unborn child to Mary’s greeting (Luke 1:41)—validated Mary’s experience and affirmed her understanding of Gabriel’s message. Elizabeth’s validation and affirmation prompted Mary’s song of praise in which she reflected on her experience of God’s grace in being chosen to be the mother of the Messiah—“from now on all generations will call me blessed” (Luke 1:48). Her song also spoke of the world-renewing work the Lord would do through the child she carried in her womb (Luke 1:46-55). 

Armed by her time with Elizabeth and the confirmation of her understanding of the angel’s message, Mary returned to her hometown where she would encounter the shaming and shunning, the isolation and loneliness of being pregnant and unmarried.

The gospel of Matthew records another gift of grace Mary received when she returned to Nazareth. That gospel tells the story of how an angel appeared to Joseph in a dream, explaining Mary’s pregnancy. The angel’s message moved Joseph beyond his sense of betrayal. He embraced Mary and her pregnancy, taking her as his wife (Matthew 1:18-25). In Joseph’s embrace, as in Elizabeth’s care, Mary was wrapped in grace.

The reality of Mary’s experience of being blessed continued to defy the popular meaning of the word.

A decree by the Roman emperor required her to journey with Joseph to Bethlehem during the last days of her pregnancy. Her journey would have likely been by foot although our modern depictions of the journey reflect her riding on a donkey. Because the couple could not find a place to stay in Bethlehem, her delivery room was a shelter used for livestock—a stable. Was there a midwife or some other woman to assist her during this critical, intensely personal time? Our traditional nativity scenes do not suggest the presence of anyone but Joseph. Having given birth to her son, she used a feed trough for his bed (Luke 2:1-7). Surely no other mother of a king has ever endured such harsh conditions for the delivery of her son.

Yet even there, in the lowliest of places, God’s grace was poured out. Reaffirmation came to them in the form of shepherds with stories of angels announcing the child’s birth (Luke 2:8-20). The affirmation continued as, eight days after his birth, they took the child to the temple to dedicate him. First Simeon, then Anna spoke to them about the child’s identity as the Messiah (Luke 2:25-35).

Simeon spoke of the revolutionary role her child would play in the life of the nation. His work would draw opposition as he challenged those in positions of authority, both in the religious and political realms (Luke 2:34). His work would strip away the veneer of the nation’s religious life, exposing “the inner thoughts of many” (Luke 2:35). As the Messiah, her son would challenge the status quo, calling the nation back to the ways of God proclaimed by the prophets. Though proclaimed as good news, his message would be viewed as a threat to all who enjoyed position and power, status and affluence within the nation (Luke 1:51-53).

Being the mother of a revolutionary would bring its own pain. It would bring misunderstanding and confusion (Mark 3:20-21). It would bring fear and dread. It would bring its own isolation and loneliness. It would bring soul-wrenching grief. Simeon spoke of this pain when he said to Mary, “A sword will pierce your own soul too” (Luke 2:35). As she cradled her newborn in her arms, nursing him at her breast, Mary could not foresee the day when she would cradle his dead body in her arms at the foot of a Roman cross.

This Christmas Eve our focus is on the child born to Mary—and rightly so. He is the Chosen One, the Messiah. He is Emmanuel—God with us, God for us, God at work for our good. He is the Word made flesh—God robed in human flesh (John 1:1-5, 10-14). He is the Son of God through whom God is made known (John 1:18). In him, we—like Mary—have received grace upon grace (John 1:16-17). In him, we too have received grace and are immersed in grace and will always be surrounded by grace.

As we remember this child of Mary who was/is the child of God, let’s not forget Mary. Even though we cannot begin to imagine what it cost her to be chosen by God—to be blessed—let’s not overlook her. In remembering her, perhaps we can learn from her what it means to be “the servant of the Lord” (Luke 1:38).