It was she, after all, no more than a teenager, whom an angel appeared to. No one asked her father or her betrothed for their (male) permission. Gabriel came directly to her. He told her the details - quite clearly - and waited for her response.
In The Message version of this story, Mary responds to Gabriel by saying, “Yes, I see it all now.” It’s impossible to know if she really responded in such a way. I’d like to think she did.
I don’t know how anyone can read those verses and then dare to ask if she knew. It sounds so condescending. (“Mary did you know?” “I don’t know, Clay Aiken, did you?”) I’m tired of having Mary’s intelligence questioned.
Is it any surprise these lyrics were written by a man?
She knew enough to be the one who prompted Jesus’ first miracle. At a wedding, to turn water into wine, of all things. (I could make a tired joke about moms needing wine here, but I’ll restrain myself.)
Even after Jesus refused her, she ignored him like only a mother can. “Do whatever he tells you,” she says to the servants in response to his protest. This interaction reminds me of tiffs with my own children. (“But mo-om I don’t want to take a shower.” “Yup. Take off your clothes and get in.”)
And it was Mary again who was there along with the other women on the day of Jesus’ death. She was there to bear witness to what was unfolding just as Gabriel had told her it would.
Maybe then, through tears, she said once more, “Yes, I see it all now.”
+++++
To give the song some credit, there’s no way Mary could work out all of the details.
Those verses in Luke tell us she was “greatly troubled” by what the angel says. I’m sure she was bothered on many levels: that she was unwed and pregnant chief among them. As her baby, this Son of God called Jesus, grew older, I’m sure she turned Gabriel’s words in her brain over and over again.
In Luke’s second chapter, Mary brings Jesus to be dedicated at the temple in Jerusalem, where she meets a devout man called Simeon. He tells her, “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 doesn’t tell us Mary’s reaction. I would imagine Simeon’s words greatly troubled her, too.
As a mother, there is plenty enough to puzzle out. Will this baby ever sleep? Is this the right kind of diaper/swaddle/pacifier? Will they eat broccoli or carrots today? Is this school the right fit? If I feed them organic macaroni and cheese does that count as health food for today? Why are they sick/crying/moody? Will this season ever end?
There’s enough to think about without being told you’ve given birth to the Savior of the world. And surely she couldn’t know that this babe lying in a manger and wrapped in swaddling clothes would one day meet his end on a Roman cross.
Luke chapter two is also when the shepherds enter the Christmas story. They were told, by a heavenly host of angels, that a Savior was born, that he is the Messiah, the Lord. They rush to Bethlehem to find him and spread the word to everyone about what they’ve been told. It says after the shepherds came that “Mary treasured up all these things and pondered them in her heart”. It’s one of my favorite uses of language in the entire Bible. I like to think she treasured things up in her heart and pondered them often. How else could she survive parenting a boy she’d been told was the actual Son of God?
I think of one of the only stories in the Bible about Jesus’ youth. When he disappears at the age of 12 - when he stays in Jerusalem yet his parents travel on and they can’t find him for days - did Mary wonder then if this was it? Did she remember Simeon’s words and was a sword piercing her own soul then as she frantically searched for her oldest son? What was her heart pondering then?
After they find him teaching in the temple, after Jesus tells his earthly parents that of course he was in his Father’s house, the Bible tells us plainly they didn’t understand what he was saying to them then. But it also says, after they find him and return home, that once again Mary treasured these things in her heart.
+++++
Still, the radio and even our own churches persist in asking Mary if she knew. Can you imagine such a song being written about a man in the Bible? Asking if Abraham knew what it meant for him to be a father of nations or if the disciples knew what they were doing in giving up their lives to follow Jesus? How dare we sing this to celebrate the birth of Jesus - his birth which was brought forth by the very human pain and suffering of Mary.
Mary herself gave us a far greater song to sing during the Christmas season. It’s almost an insult that a pop ballad questioning her understanding has climbed the charts when her own beautiful words, the Magnificat, are right there for us in Luke, not long after an angel has told her the most astounding news. It reads, in part:
“From now on all generations will call me blessed,
for the Mighty One has done great things for me—
holy is his name.
His mercy extends to those who fear him,
from generation to generation.
He has performed mighty deeds with his arm;
he has scattered those who are proud in their inmost thoughts.
He has brought down rulers from their thrones
but has lifted up the humble.
He has filled the hungry with good things
but has sent the rich away empty.”
What if we sang those verses on Christmas Eve, verses not only praising Mary but also of revolution. It’s an anthem that’s a testament to her own place in the world as well as the role her son will play in it.
Mary was a human woman who was blessed by angels, who saw the entirety of Jesus’ life play out, who sang a song both of triumph and of social transformation while she carried that child in her womb. She was a mother who nursed and wiped tears and comforted and grew frustrated and treasured things up in her heart.
I want those words to fill my car - words of liberation and redemption. Words sung by a woman claiming her own life story.
