Two of our team did a neat skit last Sunday, playing the Bible readers for Christmas Day. The idea was that they were two parishioners tasked with doing the readings from Isaiah that look ahead to Jesus. They meet for a practice and a conversation follows. Liz read from Isaiah 9 - "The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light..." and Sam follows with Isaiah 53 - "He was beaten, he was tortured, but he didn't say a word...." Hang on, says Liz, where is the baby, the stable, the manger, the sweet story that everyone knows is what Christmas is really about? Follows a debate about the place of Easter imagery in the Christmas story - the shadow of the cross over the Bethlehem stable. In her persona as the parishioner who wants only the safe Jesus - the baby in the manger - Liz reminded us that we all, at time, want to keep faith contained and manageable. Sam, on the other hand, stood for the reality that if it weren't for the such more disturbing events of the first Easter, we wouldn't be celebrating Jesus' birth at all; he would have faded into obscurity.
Some years ago, the leaders of a youth group over which I had some oversight asked if the church could put a float in the Howick Christmas parade. They told me it would be edgy, and focus on Easter rather than Christmas, but I was okay with that. Theologically it was unassailable. But pastorally none of us had thought through what it would mean for hundreds of preschoolers to see a man apparently hanging from a cross in the midst of all the Santas, reindeer, elves, fairies, and a manger or two. It was a misjudgement and I accept that now. But what I don't accept was the attitude of half-dozen or so complainants who rang the church and berated me, not about a lack of attention to the sensitivities of children, but about Easter not being anything to do with Christmas! They got a sharp response from me to that.
When Mary pondered in her heart the things that happened in Bethlehem (see Luke 2:19) she would have been thinking of the words of the angel Gabriel, that the child she delivered would be called the Son of the Most High, that is, God. Although in Hebrew thought the phrase "son of" did not have quite the same meaning as it does with Christians today, it did mean "one who perfectly reflects the nature of", and that would have been an extraordinary notion to a Jewish teenager. Remember, if we give any credence to the family traditions included in the Protevangelion, (see last week's post) Mary was trained in Torah at the Jerusalem temple, and was as aware as anyone else of that era about the Messianic prophecies of Isaiah. When she heard the predictions of Simeon and Anna over her baby, that reverent expectation would have been tainted with dread. As Mary watched Jesus grow, and learn, and later take up his Kingdom ministry, she very likely had an unfolding awareness of his calling.
Some years ago I journalled about this:
A Sword-Pierced Soul
Grief cuts deep
A sword piercing the soul
Sharp edged Flame hot
Searing mind and spirit
Dividing reality
Piercing the soul
The old man saw it coming thirty years ago
When we brought our little one to the temple
His rheumy old eyes sparked with recognition
As he saw in the Spirit what God had in mind
Now I can die in peace
For I have seen the salvation of the Lord
Yeshua was only a few weeks old
Skin still warm from the womb
Eyes still learning to focus
Hands still clutching my robe
Mouth still pursed for mother's milk
Joseph and I marvelled at the possibilities
Spoken of so surely by the ancient seer
The baby seemed so helpless - could he bring so much hope?
Yet we knew - he had come to us in no ordinary way
My body had swelled to announce his coming before I knew any man
Joseph had his doubts - but with God's help he trusted
The angels had prophesied greatness and told the shepherds of his princely purpose
Now in the temple the old widow gave thanks to God
and Simeon too foretold astonishing eventualities
A light to lighten the Gentiles and to be the glory of your people Israel
But then his countenance dimmed
And a sword will pierce your own soul, he predicted
The image shafted through my breast
A sword in my soul ?
I never forgot his warning
as we watched our son grow
first to cheeky childhood through haughty adolescence
and on to a place beside his father in the carpenter's shop.
He was such a willing workman,
even more so when Joseph left us so suddenly
He stayed on until the family were all grown
and the others could serve at the saw bench
When he started travelling I followed as far as I could
Not just the journeys but in the movements of his mind
but I didn’t always catch his meaning
His brothers too longed to understand
But his message was a mystery
The Saviour who must serve - and suffer
The shadow of the sword hung over him
I didn't want him to go to the city
Somehow I knew that was where it would end
But he was determined
It was his destiny
And so he pursued his purpose with relentless intensity
John took me to Golgotha
After the soldiers had done their worst
He hung so limp - and yet still found the words for me
Mother this is your son, he whispered
John to be my old-age caregiver,
Me to have his friend for my comfort
Then I saw it - the soldier's spear
Raised high and levelled at his hanging carcass
Then thrust into his bedraggled side
A sword shall pierce your soul - the words returned
and grief seared through a mother's heart
its only hope in God.
Grief cuts deep
A sword piercing the soul
Sharp edged Flame hot
Searing mind and spirit
Dividing reality
Piercing the soul
The old man saw it coming thirty years ago
When we brought our little one to the temple
His rheumy old eyes sparked with recognition
As he saw in the Spirit what God had in mind
Now I can die in peace
For I have seen the salvation of the Lord
Yeshua was only a few weeks old
Skin still warm from the womb
Eyes still learning to focus
Hands still clutching my robe
Mouth still pursed for mother's milk
Joseph and I marvelled at the possibilities
Spoken of so surely by the ancient seer
The baby seemed so helpless - could he bring so much hope?
Yet we knew - he had come to us in no ordinary way
My body had swelled to announce his coming before I knew any man
Joseph had his doubts - but with God's help he trusted
The angels had prophesied greatness and told the shepherds of his princely purpose
Now in the temple the old widow gave thanks to God
and Simeon too foretold astonishing eventualities
A light to lighten the Gentiles and to be the glory of your people Israel
But then his countenance dimmed
And a sword will pierce your own soul, he predicted
The image shafted through my breast
A sword in my soul ?
I never forgot his warning
as we watched our son grow
first to cheeky childhood through haughty adolescence
and on to a place beside his father in the carpenter's shop.
He was such a willing workman,
even more so when Joseph left us so suddenly
He stayed on until the family were all grown
and the others could serve at the saw bench
When he started travelling I followed as far as I could
Not just the journeys but in the movements of his mind
but I didn’t always catch his meaning
His brothers too longed to understand
But his message was a mystery
The Saviour who must serve - and suffer
The shadow of the sword hung over him
I didn't want him to go to the city
Somehow I knew that was where it would end
But he was determined
It was his destiny
And so he pursued his purpose with relentless intensity
John took me to Golgotha
After the soldiers had done their worst
He hung so limp - and yet still found the words for me
Mother this is your son, he whispered
John to be my old-age caregiver,
Me to have his friend for my comfort
Then I saw it - the soldier's spear
Raised high and levelled at his hanging carcass
Then thrust into his bedraggled side
A sword shall pierce your soul - the words returned
and grief seared through a mother's heart
its only hope in God.
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