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advent Catholic vibes Reflections for worship services

Reflection: Advent is the Time of Mary

Advent is the Time of Mary:
The time for us to take notice
of one whom this world deliberately ignores –
a woman of color, a poor woman, a teen mom, a refugee.

Was Mary meek and mild?
Not if those words are about
unquestioning submission, fearful passivity.

Only if those words are about inner power,
restrained for the sake of the vulnerable –
not the power of violence
but the power of compassion.

Not the trust of one foolish and without questions
but of one thoughtful and bold
and unafraid to ask an angel, “What does this mean?”

Mary the Mighty, Mother of the Meek,
you who guided the first clumsy steps
of the God of the Universe,

You said yes
to social ostracization, yes
to the heavy metamorphosis of pregnancy,

yes to God’s inrushing revolution
in which the lowly are pulled up from their ashes
and tyrants pulled down from their thrones.

And so all generations call you blessed –
you whom the world would see stoned.

All-powerful God,
You who let go of your omnipotence
in favor of interdependence,

it is a wonder to behold
a woman’s body shelter you, feed you,
knit your cells together –
just as You once knit her.

You depend on her, and she will not fail You.
May I be able say the same.



I first shared this reflection on my Instagram during Advent 2019, and included the following text as a caption:

Mary’s yes to God (see Luke 1:26-55), freely and triumphantly given, was no passive yes: she said yes to interdependence with her God. 

God’s request was not to overpower her or control her, but to enter into a relationship of mutual need:

Just as God kept every cell in her body spinning, so she would nurture God’s new physicality within herself – and then, after birth, feed God and keep God safe, teach God to walk and talk and read. 

God desires a relationship of mutual yes, mutual care and need – a relationship of interdependence with each of us. 

How do you say yes to this simultaneous empowerment and vulnerability, yes to living into a fullness of yourself that simultaneously serves others?

Categories
Catholic vibes My poetry

poem: Mary, Mother of us, your transgender children

The angel said to her, “Do not be afraid, Mary, for you have found favor with God. And now, you will conceive in your womb and bear a son. …
Then Mary said,
“Here am I, the servant of the Lord;
let it be with me according to your word.”

– Luke 1:28-38

This is a story of Mary consenting to enter into a disreputable condition, trusting that despite all appearances she is entering into holiness.

– Out in Scripture

______

you said Yes
to stoning.

you said Yes
to your mother seizing you by the wrists, yelling into your face
demanding to know who did this to you — to your father
weeping as you had never seen him weep, asking what he had done
that you would turn out like this, that you would do this to him.

Mary, teenage girl with the unplumbed brown eyes
Mary, hailed full of grace by a heavenly being
you said Yes to disgrace, to excommunication,
to childhood friends abandoning you, to the isolation
of no “decent person” daring to associate with you.

and as your body transformed in wondrous ways —
God’s feet forming, kicking, making
a rich round hill of your stomach,
God dependent, sustained by naught but a flimsy cord
connecting Them to you,
God! growing, becoming in the darkness of your womb!

— most did not celebrate with you.
your joy grew as your body changed,
and their snide comments, harsh stares
could not pierce your euphoria

— except for sometimes, when they did.
and for those sometimes,
when the rejection was too much, when
you crumpled at your bedside
weeping, shouting to God and whispering to Them
begging to know why your neighbors’ hearts are so hard,
why your father cannot be moved to share your joy,

my heart aches with its fullness of empathy for you
and you for me – empathy sharp as a sword
or maybe a needle: pricking, piercing,
and stitching back into wholeness –

so that when i came to you on my knees that night
sorrowful and scared and begging you to be
my Mother still, begging you not to disown
your queer little not-girl,

you bent down and picked me up, your soft strong arms
shielding me from the world’s stares, your soft calloused hands
loosening the rope around my neck, and you whispered
soft and fierce, am your Mother, I am
Mother to all like you, and I will not let any
who run to me be destroyed.

Queer Mother! – a motherhood thicker than
blood, deeper than the waters of the womb,
a relationship fashioned by a shared Yes
to disgrace, a fervent Yes
to the hard but healing path to holiness –

Mama, my Mama, i run always to you
and you give me the strength to shout with all my might
God! let it be done to me according to your word!
transform me.


This poem was written by Avery Smith and belongs to them. Please do not publish it anywhere, or use it in a service, without permission from the author. Reach out to Avery at queerlychristian36@gmail.com for that permission, or just to chat!

About this poem: This is one of my favorite poems from my collection The Kin(g)dom in the Rubblewhich you can purchase here.