- Posted by Donna Emert on December 8, 2009
by Donna Emert
How does anyone get anything done this time of year? Those of us who make gifts by hand, under the weighty onus of a December 24 deadline, need look no further than the story of The First Christmas to get some perspective.
Let’s take an unbiased look at Mary:
In the Middle East, in an era even less enlightened than our own, a pregnant teenaged virgin is traversing the desert on a donkey, led by her husband, who is not the father of her child-- circumstances that would almost guarantee some fascinating conversation between them.
In addition, they might also be a little peeved that their government requires them to travel, while impossibly pregnant, so that they can be counted and thus, taxed! It is hot. Did I mention this is the Middle East, approximately Zero, B.C. ? I think that’s the working definition of Back in the Day. So Mary is likely wearing, what, maybe 37 lbs of clothing? Perhaps her eyes are allowed to show, but not her potentially sexual-frenzy-inducing calves or arms.
So the holy couple finally schleps into Bethlehem where the census is being taken-- dirty, exhausted, reeking of donkey, to find there is no room at the Inn. (Couldn’t Joseph have made reservations via carrier pigeon, turtle dove or whatever?) So they accept an invitation to sleep in a stranger’s barn. Correction: a generous foreigner’s barn; they’re way outta town.
To recap our heroine’s motivation in this scene: Mary is required to be a gracious, pregnant, barn guest to a host from outside her culture, get herself to the census department to provide sensitive, personal data (Job description: Mother of God), AND to give birth to a deity who is, let us not forget, also a baby. Then she must somehow get the child circumcised, keep him alive in a world riddled with pestilence and ready herself and the baby/God for the long trip home.
There are additional pressures here: Seeing as how she is the parent of God, little questions likely take on deeper significance. I mean, when’s His bedtime? What do we need to teach Him? What is the Alpha and the Omega really telling us when He cries? And what kind of formidable consciousness, terrible and magnificent, is in that tiny head?
Actually I guess we all ask these questions about babies. But I digress:
So they do the census and Mary gives birth to Jesus. It doesn’t take long for word to get out, what with the celestial anomaly of the Star of Bethlehem and all, and pretty soon, Mary is ALSO hostess to THREE KINGS IN HER BARN, their many attendants, a bunch of shepherds, their sheep, cherubim and seraphim caroling at the top of their lungs and blasting those long brass horns, a little drummer boy pounding out a backbeat, and the standard array of barnyard animals, braying, mooing, clucking—and doing far worse deeds. (Thank God the kings brought frankincense and myrrh.)
How is Mary supposed to achieve her objectives, earthly or spiritual? How will she get anything done? Maybe the only rational advice for Mary, and for us, is to take in the moment.
During this Christmas, Hanukah, Solstice season, while we furiously toil at our projects, we are all just trying to celebrate what is beautiful and timeless: our babies, our beliefs, our families and friends. In fact, the quilts we’re stitching and sox we’re knitting are meant to honor them and all of this--this thing where kings and chickens inevitably collide.
When, via radio, John Lennon asks, somewhat accusingly, “So this is Christmas and What Have You Done?” if you’ve done what you can, pour something worthwhile into your cocoa, indulge in a forgiving assessment of the menagerie in your barn, and celebrate membership in your deeply flawed, ineffably sacred family. The projects will wait.
Donna Emert is a writer/quilter living in Coeur d' Alene Idaho