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Readings: Luke 2:6-7
This year has been a weird mix of noise and quiet. The world has been noisy, full of speculation and fear and everchanging information. But our small world, the world inside our house, has been relatively quiet.
We’ve spent lots of time at home and delved into new projects. I’ve taken longer walks around the block and slowed down. There’s been cooking and creating, learning and reflection.
The energy and turmoil around this year have brought new life to Christmas Eve. I’m thinking about it differently than usual.
This year, I don’t feel a pull toward a last-minute something. Our calendars have been more open, and we’re not as busy.
I’ve been looking forward to Christmas for some time and, while time seems to be both stretched out and sped up, things still seem quiet.
Sometimes when I read the Bible, I try to put myself in the character’s shoes. I try and imagine the world from their point of view. On Christmas Eve, I’m thinking about Mary.
Most of us know the story of Jesus’s birth. After days of travel, Mary and Joseph arrive in Bethlehem to find no room at the inn. Instead, they’re ushered to the stable and told this is all that’s left.
Likely, the stable where they stayed in Bethlehem wasn’t the one-walled, open structure we envision. Of course, it wouldn’t be as comfortable as a room at the inn, but scholars think it’s unlikely a man of Joseph’s lineage would’ve been pushed into second-rate lodging.
Still, it was different. I’ve spent many nights in hotel rooms, and no matter how comfortable they are, they are never home. After a time, we all want to be in our own beds.
I imagine the same is true of Mary. She was away from home, uprooted and in transit, most likely for days or weeks. I can envision her propped up on some pillows, rubbing her stomach, wishing for the comfort and familiarity of her own home.
Despite its significance, the Bible skips over the physicality of Mary’s labor and delivery. But as anyone who’s birthed a baby will tell you – the event is hardly worth skipping over.
I wonder how she spent that last night. I imagine her begin to feel the pangs of labor, knowing something is changing. Her breathing slows in the silence between contractions.
Mary knows who her son is – both she and Joseph know Jesus’s life will be different and extraordinary. What were her thoughts before he started his journey into the world? Did she know how dramatically his birth would change the course of history? Did she labor alone? Was she afraid?
This year, it feels important to take time to appreciate the dramatic and sudden shift that occurred with Jesus’s birth. The time before was starkly different from the after, even though most people didn’t know it.
Too often, I gloss over that transition. Mary felt it keenly, and perhaps we should take some time to feel it, too.
Journal Prompt: We all study and relate to the Bible differently, but I encourage you to sit for a time in the night before. For when we wake tomorrow, the world will not be as it was.
