EVERY LOVING PARENT has experienced the wonder, especially keen with the first-born, of gazing at this miracle of life we have brought into the world. We immediately count the fingers and toes, and sigh with relief when these add up to 10. As we knit our bond together with them—their wail of hunger, their spastic jerking of arms and legs, their un-focused eyes—our thoughts are swept into the myriad possibilities of their future. We fear for the worst, and our protective instincts are set in permanent motion. We pray for the best, and resolve to do everything to make that possible.
Two thousand years ago, in as-yet unknowing thoughts about such things, Mary the imminent soon-to-be mother of God and her husband Joseph arrive in Bethlehem for the mandated census of Caesar Augustus (c.f. Luke 2:1) The town is overflowing with people. This probably wasn’t the winter journey we imagine; it is more likely that Jesus was born in the spring. The journey was arduous, some 90 miles or so from Nazareth to Bethlehem, and it would have taken them four or five days, difficult for Mary. They arrive very late in Mary’s pregnancy—soon after, the scriptures indicate that Jesus is born. “While they were there, the time came for the baby to be born, and she gave birth to her firstborn, a son. She placed him in a manger, because there was no guest room available for them.” (Luke 2:6-7)
If we are parents, we can imagine what it must have been like for Mary before drifting off to sleep. Perhaps she reviewed in her mind how this miracle had come into being: “The angel said, ‘You will conceive and give birth to a son, and you will call him Jesus. He will be great and will be called the Son of the Most High.’” And she remembers her astonished reply. “How will this be, since I am a virgin?” (Luke 1:31-32, 34) She painfully remembers how difficult this had been for her and Joseph, who at one point “did not want to expose her to public disgrace—he had in mind to divorce her quietly” (Matt. 1:19); but how the angel assured him, “Joseph son of David, do not be afraid to take Mary home as your wife, because what is conceived in her is from the Holy Spirit.” (Matt. 1:20)
Even this same night, other spirit-stirring events had shaken her world. Shepherds came to see the babe and wonder over him. She heard their story: An angel had appeared to them, saying “Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is the Messiah, the Lord. This will be a sign to you: You will find a baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger.” (Luke 2:11-12) They told her of the wondrous sight they had seen: “A great company of the heavenly host appeared with the angel, praising God and saying, ‘Glory to God in the highest heaven, and on earth peace to those on whom his favor rests.” (Luke 2:13-14) And somewhere in the night she drifts off to sleep.
She would have needed time to recover, and afterwards she and Joseph and the infant—not named yet—started their return journey to Nazareth. Jerusalem is on the way, only some 5 miles or so from Bethlehem. As was obligatory for observant Jews, “On the eighth day, when it was time to circumcise the child” (Luke 2:21a), they stopped at the temple in Jerusalem for this ceremony. There, “he was named Jesus, the name the angel had given him before the child was conceived.” (Luke 2:21b)
This ceremony of covenant was nothing unusual, although very significant to every Jewish parent. But two other instances occur at the temple while Joseph and Mary and the infant are there. The first is this: “There was a man in Jerusalem called Simeon, who was righteous and devout. It had been revealed to him by the Holy Spirit that he would not die before he had seen the Lord’s Messiah.” (Luke 2:25-26) The little family hears Simeon declare, “You may now dismiss your servant in peace. For my eyes have seen your salvation, which you have prepared in the sight of all nations: a light for revelation to the Gentiles, and the glory of your people Israel.” (Luke 2:29:33)
The mother and father “marveled at what was said about Jesus.” (Luke 2:33) Simeon continues, “This child is destined to cause the falling and rising of many in Israel, and to be a sign that will be spoken against, so that the thoughts of many hearts will be revealed. And a sword will pierce your own soul too.” (Luke 2:34-35) While they are still reeling with amazement, “at that very moment” an elderly prophet, Anna, comes up to them “and spoke about the child to all who were looking forward to the redemption of Jerusalem.” (Luke 2:38)
We can further imagine how both mother and father would have privately thought and together discussed these events as they left the temple for their 3 day or so journey back to Nazareth, where they might anticipate beginning an ordinary life as a family, despite all of the events surrounding the birth of this child. Like us, they want to protect him, and see what he may become as he grows into a man. Unlike our story as parents, this is no ordinary child. Mary hasn’t forgotten that ‘a sword will pierce her own soul too.’
Like us, the miraculous events of being a parent are now embedded in Mary’s memories. Unlike us, this will be no ordinary child, for God’s hand is on him in a far different way than upon our progeny. Jesus’ birth narrative, for Mary, includes that “Mary treasured up all these things and pondered them in her heart.” (Luke 2:19) Her fervent wish that he will grow to be a man that she is proud of and have a good life is one that she will see fulfilled—but in a way she could not possibly anticipate.
Q. When I consider Jesus’ birth and life—and more—what sword pierces my own heart?
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