I want to hear a mother preach about Mary

[PloverWing]

This morning's lectionary reading was the Annunciation, and the sermon was about Mary and motherhood and the spiritual symbolism of motherhood and so on. Our priest talked about Mary's humanity and ordinariness, but then he took it in the direction of how mothers provide a warm, stable home place for the family, and I realized that that's a man's view of motherhood -- if we do our jobs well, that's what our families see us providing for them. But it's a view of motherhood from the outside, not the inside.

I like our priest, but he has never actually given birth. And, I've been thinking quite a bit about the poem that @Paidiske posted (A Christmas reflection). What I wished our priest had said, but maybe couldn't because of his own limited experience, is that Mary is like us, because she was a mother. She knew that combination of joy and terror that comes when you learn you're pregnant. She had the nausea and backaches of pregnancy. She knew the fears of carrying a baby -- what if I eat the wrong thing, what if I get sick, what if I fall? She went through childbirth itself and (as the poem describes) the difficulties of nursing.

Someday, I want to hear a woman preach about Mary, and preach it in the first person plural. This is what we go through, and Mary was like us, doing the painful and exhausting work of motherhood, to bring God into the world.

 

[All4Christ]

This morning's lectionary reading was the Annunciation, and the sermon was about Mary and motherhood and the spiritual symbolism of motherhood and so on. Our priest talked about Mary's humanity and ordinariness, but then he took it in the direction of how mothers provide a warm, stable home place for the family, and I realized that that's a man's view of motherhood -- if we do our jobs well, that's what our families see us providing for them. But it's a view of motherhood from the outside, not the inside.

I like our priest, but he has never actually given birth. And, I've been thinking quite a bit about the poem that @Paidiske posted (A Christmas reflection). What I wished our priest had said, but maybe couldn't because of his own limited experience, is that Mary is like us, because she was a mother. She knew that combination of joy and terror that comes when you learn you're pregnant. She had the nausea and backaches of pregnancy. She knew the fears of carrying a baby -- what if I eat the wrong thing, what if I get sick, what if I fall? She went through childbirth itself and (as the poem describes) the difficulties of nursing.

Someday, I want to hear a woman preach about Mary, and preach it in the first person plural. This is what we go through, and Mary was like us, doing the painful and exhausting work of motherhood, to bring God into the world.

I am grateful that we can serve God in a similar way that Mary did, even when we are not blessed with children. Not all women are given that blessing, even when they desire it. Thankfully we can also serve through spiritual motherhood in the family of God.

(Touchy subject lately, especially about women and our spiritual vocation and role in motherhood as Christians.)

 

[Tigger45]

This morning's lectionary reading was the Annunciation, and the sermon was about Mary and motherhood and the spiritual symbolism of motherhood and so on. Our priest talked about Mary's humanity and ordinariness, but then he took it in the direction of how mothers provide a warm, stable home place for the family, and I realized that that's a man's view of motherhood -- if we do our jobs well, that's what our families see us providing for them. But it's a view of motherhood from the outside, not the inside.

I like our priest, but he has never actually given birth. And, I've been thinking quite a bit about the poem that @Paidiske posted (A Christmas reflection). What I wished our priest had said, but maybe couldn't because of his own limited experience, is that Mary is like us, because she was a mother. She knew that combination of joy and terror that comes when you learn you're pregnant. She had the nausea and backaches of pregnancy. She knew the fears of carrying a baby -- what if I eat the wrong thing, what if I get sick, what if I fall? She went through childbirth itself and (as the poem describes) the difficulties of nursing.

Someday, I want to hear a woman preach about Mary, and preach it in the first person plural. This is what we go through, and Mary was like us, doing the painful and exhausting work of motherhood, to bring God into the world.

Exactly. Coupled with not know whether her betrothed husband would believe her or reject her. Talk about the world being on your shoulders. I can’t even imagine the pressure.

 

[bekkilyn]

It's interesting you bring up this topic because I had a thought earlier today about Mary along these lines. I don't have any personal concept of motherhood myself, so it's probably based on those movies where they are rushing the pregnant woman to the hospital and she ends up having the baby in an elevator or a taxi, but I was thinking how frightening it must be for Mary to be trying to get to somewhere safe to have the baby and be turned away everywhere and it didn't seem like she really had anyone around to help her. Sure there was Joseph, but did he have any clue what to do? I know I wouldn't have any clue what to do! It didn't sound like she had a midwife tagging along or anything. Maybe there was a farmer around who was used to helping with animal births or something, but even so it probably wouldn't have even been appropriate for some strange (probably) man do do that, so what was Mary to do really?

Anyway, that all ran through my head in about 10 seconds this morning.

 

[Paidiske]

This is not exactly what you were asking for, @PloverWing, but you might appreciate it: Christmas – a time of hope and trust

My Christmas morning sermon from a few years ago. I'd be interested to hear what you think.

 

[PloverWing]

I’m guessing you mean someday you want to hear a mother preach about Mary? Rather than just a woman? [ETA, I just reread the title, and it was specified there]

I am grateful that we can serve God in a similar way that Mary did, even when we are not blessed with children. Not all women are given that blessing, even when they desire it. Thankfully we can also serve through spiritual motherhood in the family of God.

(Touchy subject lately, especially about women and our spiritual vocation and role in motherhood as Christians.)

Yes, I mean that I want to hear a mother preach about Mary.

Let me clarify: I don't mean that motherhood is the ideal vocation for women, or anything like that. Emphatically, motherhood is only one of many things that people can do in life.

Instead, I mean that I've heard many men preach and write about Mary and motherhood, and I think much of the idealized-woman-as-mother stuff comes from their pens. I've decided I'd like to hear some actual mothers preach about motherhood and Mary.

It reminded me of the many sermons I've heard about shepherds, preached by a city preacher to a congregation of city folk, where most of us have barely even seen a sheep, much less a shepherd. Maybe one of these weeks we should spend time with an actual sheep farmer, and listen to what they have to say.

 

[PloverWing]

I was thinking how frightening it must be for Mary to be trying to get to somewhere safe to have the baby and be turned away everywhere and it didn't seem like she really had anyone around to help her.

I hope that the local midwife in Bethlehem came to help. If they really were going to Bethlehem because that's where Joseph's family was from, then I'd like to think that Joseph's aunts and cousins in Bethlehem could go fetch a good midwife for them.

But I remember being afraid to travel much in the last months of my pregnancies, because I'd made arrangements with the local ob/gyn and the local hospital, and what if I suddenly went into labor in a distant city where I didn't know anyone? So, yeah, there's Mary giving birth among strangers.

 

[PloverWing]

This is not exactly what you were asking for, @PloverWing, but you might appreciate it: Christmas – a time of hope and trust

My Christmas morning sermon from a few years ago. I'd be interested to hear what you think.

Thanks, Paidiske. This is exactly the kind of sermon I'm looking for.

 

[bekkilyn]

I hope that the local midwife in Bethlehem came to help. If they really were going to Bethlehem because that's where Joseph's family was from, then I'd like to think that Joseph's aunts and cousins in Bethlehem could go fetch a good midwife for them.

But I remember being afraid to travel much in the last months of my pregnancies, because I'd made arrangements with the local ob/gyn and the local hospital, and what if I suddenly went into labor in a distant city where I didn't know anyone? So, yeah, there's Mary giving birth among strangers.

If Joseph's family was that close, then I wonder why they didn't just take Mary in with them? Or maybe they were upset about the whole thing, not having any understanding of what was really going on.

 

[PloverWing]

If Joseph's family was that close, then I wonder why they didn't just take Mary in with them? Or maybe they were upset about the whole thing, not having any understanding of what was really going on.

Kenneth Bailey, in Jesus Through Middle Eastern Eyes, thinks that someone in Joseph's extended family probably did take them in. He argues that many families in that time and place lived in a small house with a family room, one end of which was a lower area for animals, and (optionally) a guest room. He interprets the text to say that the guest room was full, so Mary and Joseph stayed in the animal part of the family room, and he thinks it likely that a midwife would have been called.

Ancient and modern Middle Eastern culture is very far from my field of expertise, so I can't vouch for the accuracy of Bailey's picture. But it's an interesting possibility.