Mary

I had a great uncle John who spoke Slovak and drank whiskey and ate rum balls with my Grandpa during the holidays. He was fantastic. Always laughing. Telling jokes. His ears were the size of Texas and he gave great hearty hugs. Uncle John didn't seem to get out much, but when he did, he said hilarious things; he was always telling us grand stories. He was a good man.

Simeon in the Christmas narrative feels like my Uncle John. A good man. Getting up there in age. Most likely big ears and jovial laughter. Always telling grand stories. And Simeon has this interaction with Mary that feels like a lot:

In Jerusalem at the time, there was a man, Simeon by name, a good man, a man who lived in the prayerful expectancy of help for Israel. And the Holy Spirit was on him. The Holy Spirit had shown him that he would see the Messiah of God before he died. Led by the Spirit, he entered the Temple. As the parents of the child Jesus brought him in to carry out the rituals of the Law, Simeon took him into his arms and blessed God:

“God, you can now release your servant;

release me in peace as you promised.

With my own eyes I’ve seen your salvation;

it’s now out in the open for everyone to see:

A God-revealing light to the non-Jewish nations,

and of glory for your people Israel.”

Jesus’ father and mother were speechless with surprise at these words. Simeon went on to bless them, and said to Mary his mother,

“This child marks both the failure and

the recovery of many in Israel,

A figure misunderstood and contradicted—

the pain of a sword-thrust through you—

But the rejection will force honesty,

as God reveals who they really are.”

— Luke 2

What a tender moment we get to be a part of. Simeon asking Mary, "May I hold your baby?" Mary passing her boy off to the gentle, prayerful man.

It's the sweetest thing when old people hold babies. A tiny new hand wrapped around an old shaking finger. Old eyes gazing into new ones. Generations holding each other.

The expectant one, holding the Expected One.

I am sure young, new-mom Mary was speechless and surprised by Simeon's words: "With my own eyes I have seen your Salvation." What a statement. They had been visited by angels and had some outlandish dreams, and now, Simeon. Who essentially says now he can die - he's seen the Savior of the world.

But that last part. Did you see that last part? Her baby boy will grow up and be "misunderstood and contradicted - the pain of a sword thrust through" Whew. No one carols about that. We don't usually focus on this in the Christmas story and if I was Mary, I'd stumble, and grab onto something to steady myself. Swords on Christmas? It's a lot. Mary holds her baby boy, Simeon points out joy and grief.

Joy and grief on Christmas. God knows we have both this season. And Mary started to grasp it. Sweet thing. She had a lot going on. So much to ponder. So much to sort through. So much to discover. I find her to be amazing, strong, and faithful. She held joy and grief in tension, all wrapped up in her arms. All wrapped up in her baby boy.

Today, Mary. A teenage girl, who God looked at, loved, and blessed with the best gift in the world. So amazing.

See you tomorrow,

Amy