I’ve been thinking a lot lately about where Mary and Joseph would be right now in the Christmas story. Somewhere around Samaria, I think. It’s easy to forget that for Mary and Joseph Advent didn’t last for four weeks but for nine months.
Their Christmas preparations didn’t start when the tree went up and the radio started playing Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree around-the-clock. Nor did they really know when Christmas would actually arrive. There was no calendar with 25 days of doors, behind each one a piece of tasty chocolate, just enough to hold them over as they counted down to the Big Day, which was sure to be merry and bright.
No, for Mary and Joseph these days—these same days you and I are currently living out—were marked by a journey of a hundred miles from Nazareth to Bethlehem. Mary was so pregnant that she couldn’t remember what it felt like to not be pregnant. It had been a year since the Angel Gabriel told her she would conceive and bear a son. What strange words those were to Mary. Conceive. Her. A virgin. How inconceivable. Yet there was not just a little bit of joy…and fear…and shame. Joseph felt it too. He had spent a whole night tossing and turning in bed, and in his head. He knew he’d have to dismiss her. Dismiss her or stone her. And he loved her too greatly to ever do that.
Then he had a dream in which his own angel told him, “Joseph, do not be afraid to marry Mary, for her baby is from the Holy Spirit.” But who was ever going to believe that? When Mary starts to show, who was going to believe it was God’s doing? Mary the Infidel they would call her. And then they’d kill her. So Joseph married her, not because he believed in dreams or angels necessarily, but because he believed in doing the right thing, which is to protect the vulnerable.
I don’t know what direction you’re heading in today. The Gospel Writer Luke says that it was right around now when Mary and Joseph had to leave Nazareth to go to Bethlehem. They’d be somewhere near Samaria today. Mary needs a comfy spot to put her feet up. What she’s doing being trounced about on the back of a camel, 50 miles from anywhere, God only knows.
I have traveled the road from Nazareth to Bethlehem before, passing through Samaria. As in the days of Mary and Joseph, the people who live there look like they belong without knowing where or how. They are among the most vulnerable. They pay taxes to a government that is not their own and dream of a day when God will conceive in them something miraculous.
I don’t know what direction you’re heading in today. I find that my own protective instincts are strong right now. I feel myself wanting to stay close to home, to hold tightly to the things that make me comfortable and safe. I want my lights, my services, my radio station just the way I like them. May we not fail to remember, though, that somewhere out there is Mary and Joseph, vulnerable and unprotected. And they are the ones who will bring Christmas to pass.
PleaseGrace 