Visited by Joy: Real Women,
in Real Difficulty, in Real Time

"You better watch out,
You better not cry,
You better not pout...."

A Real Story of Real Women

Well, the guy in the white beard might be cute, but the Christian Christmas story is a real story about real people, and much of the story is not cute. The Annunciation, a fancy name for the moment Mary discovered she was pregnant, was not a cute experience, not as far as Mary was concerned. She was "deeply troubled," Luke tells us. (Luke 1:29, TEV) She was "thoroughly shaken" (1:29, The Message), and the birth itself wasn't at all cute, what with it taking place in a draughty barn! (2:7) The arduous trek to Bethlehem wasn't cute, not with Mary in her final weeks of pregnancy. Herod's maniacal manoeuvrers to find the child wasn't cute in the least! And his massacre of the innocents makes a mockery of any cuteness we have since injected into the story!

Some time before setting out for Bethlehem – in fact, very early in her pregnancy – Mary took to the hills to visit her cousin, Elizabeth. Mary was a young teenager, Elizabeth an old woman, but they were both first-time mothers-to-be. Discussing the paradoxical nature of motherhood, particularly for first-time mothers, Naomi Wolf says that in pregnancy "a woman is in the grip of one of the most primal, joyful, lonely, sensual, psychologically challenging, and physically painful experiences she can face. She's often overwhelmed by messages that infantilise who she's supposed to be and mystify what's happening to her." (Misconceptions: Truth, Lies and the Unexpected on the Journey to Motherhood, 2002, page 1)

Elizabeth and Mary were real women, who were really pregnant, and in real time! They weren't just pregnant for the four weeks of the Advent season! And their pregnancies took place in a time and in conditions that were really difficult. For one thing, they were poor. We romanticize the Christmas story on our Christmas cards and elsewhere, with cute drawings of the two women and their supporting cast: Zechariah, Joseph, the shepherds, the magi. We romanticize them and camouflage the fact that they lived in real poverty.

Zechariah, for example, was a priest, and at that time all of the priests were poor – except for the high priests, of course. The shepherds in the Christmas story lend themselves to cute representation, but the truth is that shepherds were of the lowest class, known for their vulgarity and lack of moral integrity.

Mary refers to her own "low estate" (Luke 1:51, KJV), a reference to her economic condition. She also refers to herself as a "handmaiden" (1:48, KJV), or "servant," in modern language. She was a servant girl. She was not the daughter of a high priest, or the daughter of a banker or money-lender, and her father didn't teach at the University of Jerusalem! Elizabeth and Mary were real women, who lived in real poverty, and they also lived in a country that was occupied by a real army of soldiers with real guns.

A Holy Visit Visited by Joy!

The Gospel is often brushed aside as a product of patriarchy, but it's interesting that the Gospel story begins with two women centre-stage, while their men are reduced to silence – as in Zechariah's case – or to cameo appearances, as in Joseph's case. The whole story revolves around these two women, one old, one young — both poor and powerless — but representing a new and hopeful future.

Mary's visit to Elizabeth is a holy visit. Visits, in the Scriptures, are not just little chit-chats, with tea and cookies at the end of it. For example, when God visits the earth, says the Old Testament, the difference is astounding! "God," say the Scriptures, "You visit the earth and water it, you greatly enrich it; ...you provide the people with grain...." (Psalm 65:9) Similarly, the New Testament (Matthew 25:35-36) tells us that when we feed the hungry, we are in the very presence of God! When we give the thirsty something to drink, we are in the presence of holiness! When we welcome a stranger, it is as if we welcome Jesus himself. Our visits to those in prison become holy visits.

Mary's visit to Elizabeth is a holy visit, not just of two first-time mothers who have a lot to talk about, but the visit of two people who will play important roles in salvation history. No doubt the visit took place because Mary needed to connect with someone who understood her situation. They needed each other's encouragement and unconditional acceptance. One might expect them to lament their situation, but we hear no hint of complaint, shame or regret. Instead, they are giddy with joy!

A Renaissance motet with a setting of the Hail Mary describes Mary as "solemni plena gaudio" – "full of solemn joy". I don't think so! These women were ecstatic! Some also talk of the gravity of Mary's joy, as if it's some heavy weight to carry around. We may sense the looming shadow of the cross, and we know that Mary will know deep sorrow, but not during this visit. Our Gospel reading talks of Elizabeth's baby defying gravity and leaping about in her womb! (Luke 1:41, 44) Elizabeth herself was yelling about blessings! (1:42) She was beside herself with joy – and Mary – Mary started singing: "My soul magnifies the Lord, and my spirit rejoices in God my Saviour...." (1:46-47) "My soul magnifies...." What a splendidly suitable word to use, for this was a larger-than-life moment, a moment of enlarged emotions!

The younger woman, who may have been viewed as politically naive, burst forth with a song expressing her people's deepest political aspirations! Few of our Christmas carols match it! Her song is a song of praise, acknowledging God's sovereignty in her life and in the lives of her people. God is working His purpose out, she says, and that involves a reversal of fortunes, acknowledging that those who are powerful and secure by human standards are not really powerful and secure by God's standards.

Our reading from the prophet, Micah, hints at the same theme, saying that out of Bethlehem, one of the little clans of Judah – the "runt of the litter," as one translation (Micah 5:2, The Message) describes it – out of this small town "shall come forth ...one who is to rule.... he shall ...feed his flock in the strength of the Lord, in the majesty ...of the Lord his God. ...he shall be great to the ends of the earth; and he shall be the one of peace." (Micah 5:2, 4-5) The "strong arm of the Lord" that will effect liberation and justice is the arm of an infant! Go figure! An audacious hope! The young woman's song anticipates the radical dimensions of the Gospel that will unfold in the teachings and life of her child. (Luke 6:20-21) And her child will call for God's people to participate in the reversal of fortunes that is involved in feeding the hungry and clothing the naked.

The Real Story of the Real Saint Nicholas

That's the real Christmas story, a story and festival that acknowledges God's blessings instead of wallowing in them, and that acknowledgement takes on depth in generosity. Sometimes I hear people, even Christians, trivialize our observance of Christmas by remarking that Christmas is but a thinly-disguised pagan observance of midwinter. It's true that the Roman Saturnalia celebrated the victory of light over darkness around the time of the shortest day of the year, at which time the sun worshippers built fires which they thought would give the sun god strength to come back to life again. And it's true that celebrating the birth of Jesus was done at the same time of year as Saturnalia, although that didn't happen until about the third or fourth century. Christians had celebrated the birth of Jesus before, only many of them celebrated it on January 6, and some still do so. The Christian Christmas celebration also has roots in the ancient Hebrew festival of lights, so it's hardly a Christian version of a pagan festival!

The Christian Christmas celebration was also in vivid contrast to the holiday that it eventually supplanted. The Roman Saturnalia was a family festival when people gathered with their own families, and only their families; no outsiders were allowed into the family circle. Family members exchanged gifts with each other, and the Saturnalia holiday gave people a vacation from work – all of which sounds familiar, except for some important differences. Saturnalia contained some unruly traditions, like drunkenness, promiscuity, and gambling. Seneca the Younger wrote about the festival a few decades after Jesus' death (50 A.D.), describing it a time of "public dissipation". (Sen. epist. 18, 1-2)

In contrast, Christians regarded Christmas as a feast for the poor, very much in the spirit of Mary's song in our Gospel reading, where she sings of God's intention to lift up the lowly – the poor – and to fill the hungry with good things. (Luke 1:52-53) Unlike the Saturnalia festival, which was for family members only, Christians opened their homes to the poor. They remembered Jesus' story encouraging us to invite the unfortunate to our feasts and banquets. (14:12-14) Without this sacred memory, Christmas easily degenerates into a Saturnalia-like festival of self-indulgence. Just add a few billion dollars of toys and gadgets, and you're there!

The Christian memory of Christmas as a festival for the poor and disenfranchised was alive and well in the fourth century when Saint Nicholas actually existed. The real Saint Nicholas (270-346) lived in a place where no reindeer would dare to travel. Saint Nicholas was a bishop in Turkey, and while the real Saint Nicholas did not have an arctic storehouse of fancy toys, he did have a reputation for secret gift-giving. The kindly bishop went around giving presents to poor children, and for this reason Saint Nicholas is remembered and revered among Catholic and Orthodox Christians and honoured in Anglican and Lutheran churches.

The Real Story of "Joy to the World"

There was a man born in the seventeenth century who was also the runt of the litter. Sick and puny as a baby, he remained frail and delicate all his life. He became a pastor, but his illnesses were so severe that he could not serve his growing congregation with any regularity. Instead he wrote them letters filled with hope and good cheer. Even though his body was frail, his spirit soared. He complained once about the harsh hymn texts of his day, whereupon someone challenged him to write a better one. He did. His name is Isaac Watts (1674–1748), and he wrote over 600 hymns, mostly hymns of praise.

Watts was often in the company of a once-powerful person who gave little sign of it. His name was Richard Cromwell, and he had once been the Lord Protector of England. The two men were quite a contrast, Richard a man of robust health, and Isaac a diminutive man who was described in later years as a "little feeble old man, shy in manner yet rich in speech." What's interesting to me is that Richard's father, Oliver Cromwell, enacted legislation during his tenure that forbade frivolity and feasting at Christmas. People should think of Christmas as a solemn time. The "little feeble old man," however, wrote, "I hate the thought of making anything in religion heavy or tiresome" (Horæ Lyricæ and Divine Songs), and he wrote the song, "Joy to the World," an unabashed expression of joy and delight at the birth of our Lord.

Praise God!