Prepare the Place
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December 21, 2019"The virgin shall conceive, and bear a son,
and shall name him Emmanuel." (Is 7:14, Mt 1:23)
One of the things the Cistercian Fathers loved to ponder on and draw meaning from for daily life was the gospel story of Martha, Mary and Lazarus. They visualized them as three very different persons living together in one house. Each has his or her own particular gift: Martha serves, Mary listens, Lazarus weeps for his sins. None of them can do without the others in providing a welcoming place for Christ. In similar fashion, I have been pondering on the preparations we make for the coming of Christ at Christmas in light of the preparations made by another three gospel characters. In these final days before the nativity we watch Joseph leading Mary, mounted on a donkey, on the long journey to Bethlehem. Under ideal conditions, we might imagine them experiencing the excited anticipation of new parents, living every moment with intense attention to the coming event, every kick a cause for celebration, every hiccup a possible contraction. Their unplanned, and no doubt unwanted journey, however, puts the Holy Family in a situation of vulnerability and struggle as they prepare for the birth. How does each one respond? How does each one prepare a place for Christ?
Mary’s part is primarily to wait. Her body has grown to the point where she is very little use when it comes to getting things done. Moving about is a matter of the careful, slow maneuvering of a battleship between buoys. Having lost sight of her feet, a climb up uneven ground is not advisable. Sitting, too, has become a problem, if comfort is to be considered, especially in a moving vehicle, not to mention the undulating back of a bony old donkey! Lying down would be best, but then, not this way, not that way, and as if that weren’t enough this sleeping rough on stony ground makes true rest a lost cause. Come, Lord Jesus. Come quickly! There is nothing to be done but wait. Wait for gestation to take its course. Even with all the distractions of the journey, Mary cannot but be acutely aware of her body and its mission to provide a safe shelter for the life pulsating within. Her heart is active too, preparing for the moment, signaled by the onset of bodily pains, in which she will be called out of her waiting. Receptivity will give way to response: she is to give birth. This giving will demand more of her, physically and emotionally, than she can comprehend. She is not sure where the strength will come from, but she believes. And after all that, to see his face: this she cannot imagine but cannot stop thinking about.
Joseph’s task is to ensure the safe arrival of his bride and her unborn Child in Bethlehem. Everything must be taken care of: Mary must be lifted up and lifted down, wrapped and unwrapped, provided with food and drink and soothed with a back rub. The donkey must also be fed and watered, led along rocky paths, persuaded to abandon its own plans for another itinerary. It is Joseph who must keep to the road and find the way, secure supplies, watch out for dangers, and think of a plan for the birth that could come at any moment. Where will they find shelter? Will they be safe? How will he keep mother and baby warm? Joseph’s body and mind are busy with these plans, though he scarcely notices his body until the time comes to lay down limbs that suddenly weigh a ton. His giving moment is now, and he gives all he has. There will, however, come a time for action to yield to receptivity. He doesn’t dare let his mind drift from present challenges, but every now and then, caught in a moment of stillness, he sees himself taking into his arms a Son.
Finally, we must turn to the third member of this party. Who’s that? Mary and Joseph could never have managed this journey without the bumpy ride provided by their donkey. This beast of burden doesn’t know why they are travelling so far, or why the women weighs so heavy. He doesn’t know why food is scarce or shelter lacking at night. He doesn’t understand the urgency quivering in the air, or the rocklike peace that bears them from beneath. All he knows is how long the journey and how steep the road, how heavy the burden and how unrelenting the goad. He goes on, knowing no other way than forward, step by step, artlessly clambering over every barrier as it presents itself. I am like a beast before you, and yet, I am always with you. At last there comes a moment when something changes, or rather, several things change at once. The road reaches its peak and slopes down toward a dimly-lit town. The woman’s weight shifts somehow, bears down differently. Fear comes into the man’s eyes, and drama to his gestures. Their journey is over; he knows this in his bones. Relieved of his burden at last, and led beneath a roof he does not recognize, he looks on and, for the first time, understands. The ox knows its owner, and the donkey its master’s crib.
Now what do these various characters tell us in our preparations for Christmas? Just as the Cistercian Fathers read the story of Martha, Mary and Lazarus, so we can apply this to the monastic community: a house where complementary gifts can be accepted and flourish, and to each person: a house in which different responses to the Lord’s coming take the stage at different times according to the call of the moment. Perhaps the lesson is not so different here: there is much that has to be done, there is waiting with pondering heart, and there is endurance without understanding. Some of us have spent our Advent serving with great intensity, to the limits of our capacity, and now find ourselves winding down. For others the busy time is just ramping up. Some of us find ourselves limited in outer activity, because of age or role or incapacity and not necessarily by choice. Some who are waiting have given their lives, others are waiting to give it. Someone’s inner life may be growing to full term, carried on the back of another whose suffering is a mystery of God’s providence. And of course, in the monastery it is never a matter of fair division of labor, if by “fair” we mean just the same for everybody. St Benedict is clear that need, capacity and vocation are the criteria for distribution. We do not choose to be Mary or Joseph or the donkey; it is chosen for us. But we can come to recognize, accept and find peace in our role in the drama.
Each one of us is preparing a place. Each one is waiting, working, journeying, and wondering. What will it be like when Jesus comes? This is something neither Mary, nor Joseph, nor the donkey knows. We go forward in faith, as they did, seeking his face.
Image: Mosaic at Chora Church, Istanbul, Turkey
